Beyond good and evil
by bloodylullabies
Summary: A behind-the-scenes Harry Potter story set in a slightly different world – a world in which immortal vampires and werewolves roam the earth. A world in which two former Death Eaters, Walden Macnair and Antonin Dolohov, seek redemption, with the help of a girl who may be more than the ordinary witch she appears to be. The story begins in July 1995. [New, improved version on AO3.]
1. Bad wolf

**Author's note** : _Most of the characters belong to the legendary JK Rowling, may she live forever._

* * *

Matt was still playing on the Genesis when he became aware of footsteps in the hall. Normally, it wouldn't make him pause, but he couldn't recognise the footsteps. He knew his parents' footsteps as well as his sister's, and those didn't belong to them. They were heavier, somehow.

He glanced at the alarm clock and saw it was almost three in the morning. He laid down the controller and turned off the TV and the console. He sat still for a moment, straining his ears, and the footsteps came again – near his parents' bedroom, as far as he could make out. There was the sound of an object crashing to the floor. That decided him.

Grabbing his bat, he opened the door to his sister's room. They rarely used the door that separated their two bedrooms, now that they weren't kids anymore. He made his way to the bed as quietly as he could. She always slept with the curtains open, for some reason, and thanks to the moonlight – the full moon had occurred just a few days ago – he could see as well as if he'd switched the light on.

"Evey," he whispered, "wake up."

She stirred drowsily. "Wuzzgoinon?"

"I think there's someone in the house," he explained in hushed tones.

She was much more awake, all of a sudden. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up in the bed. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "Downstairs?" she asked.

"No, here in the corridor, I think."

"That's weird. What sort of stupid thief would come upstairs and risk getting caught?" She shook her head in puzzlement, then seemed to notice his bat. "What are you doing with that? Matt, it's a person, not a zombie. You're not supposed to bash people's head in, even if they're breaking and entering. With a father who works in law enforcement, you should know that, and also that legitimate defence is not as easy to prove as people think."

Even in the middle of the night, barely awake, she could be annoying. "What do you propose, then? And what if he has a gun, huh?"

"I'm not sure what good the bat will do if he has a gun, silly." She stood up. "I'll get my wand, just in case, but most likely he'll run off when we open the door. They usually do," she said matter-of-factly.

"I thought you weren't supposed to use it when there are… Muggles... around."

"I can use it to defend myself. That's why I said 'just in case'." He rolled his eyes at her but said nothing as she opened the drawer where she kept her wand when she was home.

He saw her frown. "What?"

"It's gone," she murmured.

"Gone? Your wand is gone?" he repeated stupidly. "Holy shit!"

"As you say." She turned around. She had gone very pale. "Matt, we need to get out of here."

"Well, you probably put it somewhere else, that's all. You're not particularly orderly," he pointed out, indicating the clothes scattered around the room.

She shook her head. "No, I _always_ put it there. You don't understand, Matt. There's no time. We're in danger. We need to get out, and fast." She walked toward the window and looked outside. "We'll need to jump, but it's not very high."

"Out the window? Are you _crazy_?" he asked her incredulously. The fall would certainly not kill them, but they would break some bones for sure.

"Just do what I say!" She was starting to panic, he could tell. Hell, she looked ready to cry. Why was she so scared, all of a sudden? She was the one who'd told him he was being silly!

Before he could try to reason with her, the door that led to the corridor banged open.

The man who stepped in was the biggest he had ever seen. He was at least 6'8'' and built like a WWE fighter. His grey hair matted his face and he was grinning in a disturbing manner. His teeth were stained and looked oddly sharp, as if they'd been filed. He seemed to be covered in mud, but in the moonlight, it was hard to tell… Surely it couldn't be blood? The man had a wand in each hand, and Matt recognised Evey's as one of them.

The man certainly didn't look like a common thief. Matt put himself in front of his sister, who stood frozen near the window, and he raised the bat protectively. "Don't come any closer!" His voice shook a little. "My father is armed, so you'd better get out of here while you can, you creep."

The man let out a barking laugh. "How adorable," he said in a rasping voice. He had a faint accent, possibly German, or Eastern European. "The foolish knight in shining pyjamas steps in to defend the princess." He laughed again. "Lad, your daddy ain't coming to save you, not tonight. Or any other night," he added with a feral grin. He started to walk toward them. "You should have listened to your sister and run while you could. You might even have made it out alive. It's not you I'm after."

"Who the hell are you?" Matt asked. The terror was clear in his voice now, but that was the last thing on his mind. "What do you _want_?" The man stopped in front of him. His eyes were an odd honey colour and they seemed to reflect the light of the moon that filtered through the window. "Step back! Last warning!" He raised the bat higher and prepared to swing it with all his might.

"What a pity. You would have made a decent cub," the man said cryptically as he picked Matt up and threw him across the room as if he weighed nothing. He heard Evey scream, but then he landed against the wall, head first, and the world faded out of focus.


	2. Even the very wise cannot see all ends

In the dream, she was wrestling with a wolf. It wasn't an ordinary wolf, however. This one was enormous, larger than a bear.

What a strange dream. Why wasn't she using magic?

Suddenly, the wolf bit her, sinking its sharp teeth in her shoulder. She cried out in pain and woke up with a start when she realised the pain was real.

As her eyes flew open, she almost expected to find the huge beast on top of her. _Silly girl, it was just a dream._ Well, it had been more of a nightmare. The pain, however… It had _felt_ real, but the sensation was already fading away.

With a shock, she realised that she was not in her room. She was in… was it the infirmary, at Hogwarts? What the hell was she doing here? She had just graduated!

"Ah, Miss Kane. It's good to see you awake." A deep, calm voice called from her right.

She turned to identify the owner of the voice. "Professor Dumbledore? What happened? Why am I here?" she asked warily. She had a feeling that something was _very_ wrong.

"You have been here for two days, Miss Kane. We were rather worried about you. Do you remember anything?"

"No, I don't," she began to say. She frowned in sudden concentration. Something had happened, something to do with her wand. No, with her brother. She huffed in frustration. "I'm sorry, it's a bit murky."

"You Apparated in Hogsmeade on Tuesday, at dawn, and demanded loudly that the owner of the Hog's Head open the door. You passed out soon afterward, however. The bartender alerted me right away and you were taken here. I went to your house at once myself, but there was nothing to be done. I'm very sorry," he said softly.

"Sorry about what?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Your family was murdered. We believe Fenrir Greyback is behind the attack."

She didn't question him. She knew he was telling the truth, because now it was coming back to her – parts of it, anyway. She remembered her brother flying across the room, his head hitting the wall and… No. Please, let her forget that. She didn't _want_ to remember. She felt the tears stream down her cheeks and turned her head; she hated crying in front of people. She vaguely heard the Headmaster leave but by then she was sobbing too hard to care.

* * *

"Have the Aurors arrested him?" she asked a few hours later, when she had finally calmed down a little. "Greyback, I mean?" She was actually hoping they hadn't. She wanted to find the werewolf herself and make him pay for what he'd done. Her brother had been only fourteen.

"Fenrir Greyback has not been apprehended, I'm afraid. Miss Kane, we believe he was after you, personally."

"Of course he was," she cut in. "I'm Muggle-born, and Greyback's one of Voldemort's partisans, isn't he?" Voldemort had returned, and Muggle-borns were one of his favourite people to target, everyone knew that. "But why me, specifically? Or does the wolf attack at random?" She wouldn't wish this on her worst enemy, but… couldn't Greyback have attacked _another_ Muggle-born family?

"We don't know that, yet. Nor much anything else, as a matter of fact. Are you quite sure you don't remember Apparating in Hogsmeade, or what Greyback said or did?"

"I told you, Professor, I remember very little. I know he told my brother he wasn't after him, and that he could have made it out alive." That had been just before Greyback killed Matt. After that, her recollections were hazy. She couldn't understand how she'd Apparated; she'd never learned how.

What surprised her the most, however, was that she was even alive. Being attacked by a werewolf usually meant death, and in a woman's case, it _always_ meant that. A werewolf's bite was fatal to women. But apparently, she hadn't been bitten – or hurt in any way, it seemed, although her clothes were torn and caked with blood. Madam Pomfrey said she was as healthy as a horse. Evey couldn't make sense of it and, clearly, neither could Professor Dumbledore. As he had explained earlier, his theory was that Greyback had left her for dead. Indeed, the impressive quantity of blood found in her bedroom belonged to her. The Headmaster couldn't figure out how that was possible, nor could Madam Pomfrey – and if they couldn't, who could?

"It will probably come back to you when the shock has faded somewhat. In the meantime, you will be transferred to another secure location. You will be perfectly safe there, I assure you." He had also told her that the _Daily Prophet_ claimed that she had perished with the rest of her family. The whole world assumed she was dead. Dumbledore thought it best that way. No one would come looking for her if they believed her dead.

"What's going to happen to me? I can't stay hidden forever, Professor." To think that a few days ago she was going to begin her life, her adult life. The world was open to her, a place full of opportunities. She already knew exactly what she wanted to do, but it wasn't the sort of job you could do while hiding in a top-secret location.

"No, of course not. It will simply be until it is safe for you out there, Miss Kane. A few weeks, maybe months. You do understand that this is for your own safety, don't you?" he asked, his blue eyes piercing hers.

"I understand," she muttered. That didn't mean she had to be happy about it. Hell, she wasn't likely to ever be happy again in any case.


	3. He leaves ruin and weeping in his wake

Lunch was over and the children were slowly streaming out to get back to their daily chores. At least Molly hoped they were.

"George, come here a second, would you? I need to talk to you." Molly wasn't looking forward to this conversation. She had been delaying this moment for days, but Evey would be here soon. George had to know before she arrived.

"Just me, alone?" George gave her a quizzical look. Fred stopped at the bottom of the stairs, obviously curious.

"Yes, dear, just you," Molly said.

The twins exchanged a look, then Fred shrugged and went up the stairs.

"What did I do? You know, whatever it was, Fred likely had a hand in it too."

"Sit down, George, please."

George stopped in his tracks, looking as serious as she'd ever seen him. "Mum? What's going on?"

She sighed. "It's about Evey. Will you please sit down?"

George slowly took a seat. "Is she alright? What happened?"

"Well, she's unhurt but… there was a… George, there was an attack. Her family was killed." The words came rapidly; there was no use beating about the bush.

Her son looked shocked. For once, he was actually speechless.

"George? Are you alright, dear?" He hadn't known the girl for very long, and they had broken up – Ginny had told her – just after Evey graduated, but he was fond of her, she knew.

He found his voice at last. "I… I don't…" He choked on the words. Molly got up to hug him; he leaned into his mother's embrace and began to cry. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him cry. She felt her own tears slowly roll down her face. "It's alright. Everything will be alright."

* * *

Fred was curious. He'd wanted to use the Extendable Ears to listen in on the conversation his brother and mother were having in the dining room, but decided it was useless. George would tell him anyway.

He heard his brother coming up the stairs and sat up on the bed. George walked in, looking pale, his eyes red. Had he been _crying_? "What's wrong?" Fred asked.

"Evey will be staying with us. She'll be here soon," he replied blandly.

"Really? Well, that's good, isn't it? She broke up with you because the long-distance relationship would be hard to maintain, but if she's here, that won't be a prob…" He trailed off, frowning. " _Why_ is she coming here?"

"Greyback came to their house two days ago. Her parents and her brother were murdered."

He felt the blood drain from his face. Merlin's underpants, _Greyback_? He couldn't think of anything to say.

"Dumbledore's afraid they might come for her again if they realise she's alive, that's why she's staying here. Mum says everyone thinks she's dead. If you were wondering why we couldn't find a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ yesterday, that's why."

Fred's voice returned. "But why would they come for her?"

"Does it really matter? It's probably an attack directed at the Order, at Dumbledore. They know he's fond of Muggles, and they don't like that. They want to demoralise us."

"Well, it's certainly effective." He paused. "Are you alright?"

"I can't get my head around it. They were nice people." George had spent part of the last Easter holidays at Evey's place. He looked more distraught than Fred had ever seen him.

"I know, I remember them from the station. Her brother was pretty funny, and you know I don't use that word lightly."

"Yeah, he was a good kid. Merlin, I can't believe this is happening… It's only been weeks since Voldemort came back!"

"He's clearly not wasting any time. And they thought he was going to lie low for a while," Fred added with a grimace.

There was a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Ginny, Hermione and Ron came in, looking perturbed. "Is everything alright?" his sister asked. "I just went back to grab a glass of water downstairs and Mum was crying. What happened?"

George didn't look eager to explain again, so Fred told them what was going on. When he was finished, Ron had turned a sickly shade of green and the girls were crying silently. Ginny moved to the bed to sit next to George and put an arm around him. They all stayed like that for a long time in silence, until their mother gave a quiet knock on the door. "Kids? Evey will be here in a minute, if you want to come down."

They all looked at each other without speaking. George went out first, looking determined.

* * *

George went down the stairs and into the dining room. Before any of them had time to sit, however, the front door opened. George went right back into the hall.

There she was, as pretty as ever. Her dark brown hair was tousled, but that was not unusual. She looked pale and tired, almost drained. Her green eyes came up to meet his, and he walked up to her, but she didn't close the space between them.

They just stood there for a moment. The others had remained in the dining room, to give them some privacy, he supposed. After some time, George spoke. "I'm so sorry, Evey."

"Not as much as I am," she murmured. "I was useless. It's my fault they're gone."

"Hey, don't say that. What could you have done? It was Greyback, for Merlin's sake. It's a wonder you're even alive."

"Maybe it would be better if I wasn't," she whispered softly. Before he could think of a reply, she went on. "I just need to be alone for a while."

"Of course. I'll show you to your room." They walked up the stairs in silence. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort her. They reached the girls' room a moment later. "Evey, you're not alone. We're here for you. _I'm_ here for you."

"Thank you, George. I just need some time. I'm sorry."

He watched the door close behind her, feeling helpless.


	4. I don't give a damn about my reputation

_7 months ago_

Fred and George gave a last look around the corridor to make sure no one was near. Satisfied that they were alone, they turned to the statue of the one-eyed witch. Before they could tap the hump, however, the passage opened and a girl came out.

Stunned, the twins looked at each other. They had never encountered anyone near any of the secret passageways that lead in and out of Hogwarts. The girl looked a little taken aback as well. She was quite pretty, with medium-length dark brown hair. She seemed to be a little older than them. Her green eyes gave them both an appraising look. Suddenly, she made a small motion with her hand. "You did not see me come out of the statue." She said it with a serious, commanding air.

George was the first to recover. "Don't worry, we were just about to get into the passage ourselves. We won't tell anyone."

Fred nodded. "We're just surprised to find someone who knows about it." He looked thoughtful. "How did _you_ find it?"

The girl gave him a mischievous smile. "I saw Potter get in there last year. Had to find out what that was about. I've been using it quite a lot since."

Fred grinned. "Who are you, then? Never seen you around before. I'm Fred, by the way, and this is George, my twin brother." His grin widened.

The girl grinned right back. "Really? I'd never have guessed." She gave a small chuckle. "Name's Evey. Nice to meet you."

George gave her a flourished bow. "The pleasure is all ours." He straightened with a smile. "What year are you in?"

"Seventh. You're in the sixth, right?"

The twins nodded. "I can't believe we've never seen you before. I mean, I'm pretty sure we would remember if we had." Fred gave her his most winning smile.

"I tend to keep to myself. I spend most of my free time reading in the common room. In the dungeons." The twins' grins faded at that. The girl noticed and continued. "Yeah. Apparently, being seen with a Slytherin is as good as signing your own death warrant, these days." There was an awkward silence. "I guess I'll be off, then. Be sure to visit Honeydukes, they just got a shipment of Exploding Bonbons." She started down the corridor.

George called out after her. "Wait! Are you going to the Yule Ball?" Fred gave his brother an odd look.

The girl turned around to look at him with narrowed eyes. "I wasn't going to, no. Why?" she asked suspiciously.

George took a deep breath. "Would you like to come with me?"

She studied him for a moment. Then she shrugged. "Sure, why not. I'll meet you in the Great Hall." She turned around once more and walked away without another word.

George let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and smiled after the girl. Fred was still looking at him with that odd look on his face. George turned to face his brother. "What?"

"You're going to the ball with a _Slytherin_?" He paused briefly. "Are you alright?" Fred looked genuinely concerned.

"She's pretty."

Fred shook his head. "The most beautiful flowers are usually the deadliest."

George snorted. "How poetic." He grinned at his brother. "You're just jealous."

It was Fred's turn to snort. "Well, it should be interesting, just to see the others' reactions." He returned his brother's grin. "I can just picture Ron's face when he finds out."

The twins both laughed at that. _Yes, it should be interesting_ , George thought, still smiling.

* * *

George felt uncharacteristically nervous. What had possessed him to ask a girl he barely knew to come to a _ball_ with him? He didn't even know how to dance. This was going to be a disaster.

Fred suddenly tapped his shoulder and pointed toward the stairs. George gave a small start and turned around. She was there. She'd actually come! For a moment, George could only stare. Had he thought she was pretty? She was beautiful. She'd made up her hair just a little, so that her soft curls fell lightly to her shoulders. She wore a bright green dress that brought out the colour of her eyes. She'd put on some light make-up, too, although she hardly needed it. His mouth felt dry.

She walked up to him, smiling coyly. "Well, you don't look too bad." She grinned. "Love the lace at the cuffs."

He felt his cheeks heat up. "Yeah, it's not exactly what I had in mind when they said we'd need dress gowns," he mumbled, looking down.

"I was just kidding. Everyone looks ridiculous, dressed like that." She sighed. "Ugh. I hate dressing up. It's been years since I've worn any sort of dress, besides the uniform, and I could do without that, too."

"You don't look ridiculous." He looked her in the eyes, smiling slightly, his confidence slowly returning. "You're beautiful."

Her smile broadened and a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks. "Thanks. Shall we?" She offered him her arm, which made him laugh.

"Gladly." He turned around. "You've met Fred." He indicated the tall witch standing next to his brother. "This is Angelina. She plays for the Gryffindor Team. Angelina, this is Evey."

Angelina gave the newcomer a warm smile. "Nice to meet you."

Evey smiled back. "Likewise."

At that moment, they were joined by Ron and Harry.

Ron looked grumpy. "Let's get this over with, then. Have you seen Hermione?"

Evey answered him. "Hermione Granger? I just saw her upstairs, she was talking with some hot bloke from Durmstrang."

Ron frowned at that. "Really?" He looked toward the stairs, then back at her. "Who are you, anyway?"

George shook his head at his brother's rudeness. "She's my date." George couldn't help but smile at that. "Evey, this is my ever-charming brother, Ronald Bilius. And that's Harry Potter, but you probably knew that already. Harry, Ron, this is Evey."

She gave them both a bright smile. "Such famous people you hang out with. I'm truly honoured." She bowed slightly to Harry, who turned a bright crimson and muttered something inaudible.

Fred laughed. "He's very shy, Harry is." He glanced to his left. "Ah! Gentlemen, I believe your own dates have arrived." He gave them both a wicked grin. Ron looked ready to sick up and Harry's blush deepened. Reluctantly, they walked away to greet Padma and Parvati Patil.

"Poor girls." George chuckled quietly. "They have no idea what they signed up for."

Evey laughed. "You didn't look so bold yourself just a minute ago."

"Not my fault. I had a brain freeze when I saw you. Took some time to thaw, is all." He grinned and then nodded toward the Great Hall. "Fancy a drink?"

She grinned back. "I sure do."

* * *

Evey felt good, which was unexpected. She usually avoided crowds and social gatherings of any sort. But being around George and his friends, she felt… comfortable. Yes, that was the word. All these years at Hogwarts, she'd never felt like she belonged, and being a Muggle-born in the house of Salazar Slytherin hadn't helped in the least. Even now, in her last year, most of her housemates saw her as an outsider. She had taken it hard, especially at the beginning of her first year. With all the name-calling and bullying, she'd even considered begging her parents to take her back home.

Then one day, everyone had simply stopped bothering her. Someone had pranked her harshly just the day before, during their last period, Transfiguration, and after that, they had started to ignore her entirely. She didn't mind being ignored; she'd always been more of a loner anyway. She wasn't sure why they'd stopped so suddenly, but she'd been too relieved to care.

Still, she'd never quite fitted in, never really had a friend at school. The other Houses were heavily biased toward Slytherin students, so making friends with anyone outside her own House had proven impossible – not that she'd tried very hard. She gave up altogether in her second year, embracing solitude.

She laughed at the joke Fred had just made. She hadn't laughed like that in a while, probably not since returning to school last September. She realised George was looking at her and turned to meet his eyes, smiling. "Are we going to dance, or what?" he asked her.

She gave him a wicked grin. "If you think you can handle it." Fred and Angelina both laughed.

George got up and gave her a low bow, extending his hand. "My lady."

Evey chuckled and took his hand. They made their way to the centre of the room. She thought he was a pretty good dancer, although she wouldn't know, having never danced before herself. They danced for a long time, until eventually her feet started to protest. Bloody high heels. She told George she'd like to take a break and he suggested a walk outside, out of the crowd. She took the offer gratefully.

They found a corner with an empty bench and sat for a while in silence, gazing at the stars. She'd expected it, but she was still pleasantly surprised when he leaned in to kiss her. He was pretty good at that, too. They stayed there for some time, until they were interrupted by some fourth-year girls giggling madly. They looked at each other and shrugged, then went back inside.

Fred and Angelina were dancing now, and their table had been taken up by Ron, Harry and a ginger-haired girl who could only be a Weasley sibling.

George introduced them. "Ginny, this is Evey. Evey, my sister Ginny."

The younger girl gave her a shy smile. "Hi."

"Nice to meet you."

Ron looked disgruntled. "I can't _believe_ she went with Krum!" Harry and Ginny both rolled their eyes.

George looked curious. "Who went with Krum?"

Ron made a face. "Hermione."

George looked surprised. "Really?" He turned around to scan the crowd. "Is that her? With the blue dress?" Ron grunted in response. "Well. That was unexpected." He smiled. "Good for her." Ron gave him a dirty look.

Evey looked toward the witch dancing with the Bulgarian Seeker. "She's very pretty." She grinned. "He's not bad, either." George snorted.

Ron let out a low growl, turning away from the dancing pair to glare at Evey. "So which House are you in, anyway? Never seen you before."

Evey sighed. "Slytherin." All heads turned to her at once. Harry looked surprised, Ginny slightly stunned.

Ron grimaced. "You're kidding, right?" When she didn't answer, he turned to his brother. "She's kidding, right?"

George met his brother's gaze. "No, she's not kidding, Ronald. She's in Slytherin."

Ron looked disgusted. "Why on Earth would you ask out a _Slytherin_ to the ball?"

George frowned. "Watch your tongue, Ron."

His brother snorted, disbelief clouding his voice. "Have you gone mad? Or has she put a spell on you?" He turned to Evey. "Have you?"

George sounded angry, now. "Would you stop that? What has she done to deserve you being rude to her?"

Before Ron could reply, Ginny spoke up. "George's right. You have to stop thinking that all Slytherins are monsters." Ron stared at her and opened his mouth, but his sister talked right over him. "Just because Malfoy is an twat means they're all like that. There are some Slytherins in my year that are actually quite nice."

Ron snorted again, shaking his head. "It's not just Malfoy! I mean, have you met Crabbe and Goyle? Marcus Flint? Pansy bloody Parkinson? They're brainless twits, all of them!" He looked at his best friend for support. "Harry?"

The skinny, dark-haired boy looked slightly embarrassed. "I don't know, Ron. They can't _all_ be like Malfoy, can they?"

Evey decided to intervene. "If it helps, I hate Malfoy as much you do. Most of us do, actually. Spoiled, whiny brat." George and Harry laughed at that, while Ginny nodded in approval. Ron didn't look convinced.

"You know," she went on, "from what I've heard, there's always been a rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. But before you arrived at Hogwarts, before Malfoy arrived, really, it never went beyond the good-natured practical joke or Quidditch-related jeers." She looked at Ron. "Now you can't run into a group from the other House without being called names or made fun of, and it can get pretty brutal, too. And don't think your housemates don't do it. I've had my share from them." Ron was starting to look faintly embarrassed; he'd turned a pale shade of pink.

Fred and Angelina were back from the dance floor; they both looked breathless. They sat down, smiling, then seemed to sense the tension around the table. "What's going on?" Fred looked at his twin.

George sighed. "Evey's true colours have finally been revealed. Although she wasn't exactly trying to hide them," he added, indicating Evey's dress. He gave Ron a smirk. "Your brother seems to think she's put me under some terrible spell."

Fred snorted, eyes twinkling. "Well, I haven't ruled out that possibility yet." He grinned. "You know, deny it all you want, there's a good chance he's also _your_ brother." They all laughed at that; Ron had turned an alarming shade of crimson.

Angelina spoke up, still smiling. "I've never understood why Slytherins and Gryffindors were so hostile toward each other to begin with."

George nodded. "Just what Evey was saying before you arrived. She thinks it got worse when Malfoy arrived at Hogwarts."

Angelina looked thoughtful. "You know, that's quite possible. I can't remember being harassed during my first or second year. These days, it seems every time I run into a Slytherin, I get insulted, one way or another. I know being on the Quidditch Team makes me a more likely target, but still. Just two days ago, this tiny first-year kid called me 'Half-Mudblood'." She gave a small, incredulous laugh. "I was just asking him if he was lost." She shook her head. "It's sad, really." She looked at Evey. "And it goes both ways, of course. I've caught several Gryffindors from my year harassing Slytherins, and they weren't any nicer than them."

Evey nodded in agreement. "Being a Slytherin can be frustrating. I mean, the Gryffindors are the brave, daring kids, the Ravenclaws are the smart ones, and the Hufflepuffs the kind ones who get along with everyone. Nothing so nice about us, though. We're the evil ones. The cold-hearted opportunists. The fact that most Death Eaters came from Slytherin is probably not helping our reputation." She smiled wryly. "They seem to forget about people like Damocles Belby." The others nodded, except for Harry, who looked confused. Evey smiled at him. "Belby is the potioneer who invented the Wolfsbane Potion a few years back. He was awarded the Order of Merlin for his discovery." She paused briefly. "Come to think of it, Merlin himself was a Slytherin." Harry looked surprised. "Yeah. But maybe all the good guys that came out of our House are not enough to compensate for all the bad ones," she added with a sigh.

Harry spoke up quietly. "Dumbledore once said that Salazar Slytherin valued cleverness, resourcefulness and determination in his students. That doesn't seem to indicate he only chose evil people."

Evey smiled. "Shrewdness, ambition, cunning… there are plenty of qualities to be found in our House. They just seem to be badly balanced, in some people."

Ron's face had almost gone back to its original colour. "The thing is, you don't _sound_ like a Slytherin. Maybe the Hat made a mistake…"

Evey grinned at him. "On the contrary, Ronald. I'm exactly where I belong. Cold-hearted opportunist, that's just me." The others laughed. "More seriously, though, I _am_ a true Slytherin. I'm not ambitious, certainly, or leadership-oriented, but I _do_ have a very powerful sense of self-preservation. And I'm definitely an opportunist." She shrugged. "All Houses have their share of qualities and weaknesses. All _people_ have their share of both. We just have a bad reputation."


	5. I am the very soul of caution

Tony made his way noiselessly down the stairs. At two in the morning, he wasn't likely to run into anyone, not even the dog. When he couldn't sleep, Black spent most of his time brooding in the attic, with the hippogriff.

As he opened the door that led to the unused living room, however, he was glad that he'd bothered to turn himself invisible. That might be the only perk to his curse, but it certainly came in handy, especially now that he was stuck here.

There was a girl sitting on the mouldy couch. She wasn't Molly's daughter, that much he could say for certain – her hair was a dull brown – but other than that, he had no idea who she might be. He knew he should go back upstairs – no one would ever know he'd been here – but his curiosity got the better of him. It often did.

It wouldn't do to startle her. He made himself visible once more then cleared his throat loudly. She turned toward him with a small frown. Clearly, she hadn't expected to see anyone, either. She was young, he noted, and quite pretty. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think you're in my brooding spot," he told her with his most charming smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone ever came down here." Considering the state of the room, it was an honest mistake. And in fact, that was precisely why he came here. The girl stood up and took a few steps toward the door.

"Oh, you can stay. I was just kidding. We can share. It's a very large decrepit couch." Merlin knew, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. "I'm Tony," he introduced himself. Better to stick to his first name.

"Evey," she replied simply.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment but finally walked back to the couch. He sat down at the other end. "You're new here, aren't you?" he asked her.

"Yes, I am. I arrived this afternoon. Have you been here a long time?"

"A few weeks. We were among the first to settle in. Shitty place, isn't it?"

She chuckled softly. "It's not what I expected, I'll admit. It certainly doesn't look like it harbours the Order of the Phoenix. Then again, maybe that's on purpose," she added thoughtfully.

"Nah, I think they were just caught by surprise by Voldemort's sudden reappearance. What brings you here, anyway?" Too late, he realised he shouldn't have asked that; she would return the question for sure.

She replied before he had time to change the subject, however. "I'm in hiding, apparently."

"Join the club. We've got cool jackets."

"I hadn't realised we were sheltering Death Eaters," she went on casually, "let alone dead ones."

He stared at her. "You know who I am?" _Bloody hell! I knew I should have gone back upstairs._

"You're Antonin Dolohov." Oddly, she was still smiling. "It seems we have more in common than I thought possible."

"We do?" he asked with a frown.

"I'm also dead to the world. Do you have a club for that, as well?"

"It was just me until a moment ago. I guess we could start one together," he told her a trifle uncertainly. She didn't look as if she was about to scream; that was something. "How do you know who I am?" She seemed a bit young to remember the War. Had her parents fought for the Order?

"They wrote a small article about you when you… died. There was a picture." She shrugged. "I assume you wouldn't be here if you were a danger to anyone. Mrs Weasley would never let that happen." She paused, frowning slightly. "Although, come to think of it… you killed her brothers, the Prewetts, didn't you?"

"I… yeah, I did. But you're right," he added hastily, "we're not dangerous. We're here to help."

"We?" she repeated slowly.

Damn. He would never learn to hold his tongue, would he? "I'm here with my brother," he explained reluctantly.

"Oh? I didn't know you had one. Is he a Death Eater, too?"

"He was. We're not Death Eaters anymore, though. We're not exactly members of the Order, not yet, and Dumbledore hasn't agreed to send us on missions or anything, but that's what we're here for," he said determinedly.

"That's nice." She sounded sincere.

They were silent for a moment. "Maybe I should leave you alone," he said eventually. He stood up.

"Oh no, it's fine. I could use some distraction." She gazed at him steadily, utterly unafraid.

He sat back down. "Why do you need distraction? And for that matter, why aren't you in bed? It's really late, you know."

"Really early, you mean." She indicated the newspaper that lay on the coffee table.

Tony picked it up. It was a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , dated 19th July. Two days ago, he thought. 'GREYBACK MURDERS FAMILY OF FOUR' the headline glared at him. He turned toward her. "Please tell me that's not what I'm supposed to be reading."

She shrugged. "You don't have to read it. It's garbage, anyway. And they misspelled my mum's name."

"Shit. I'm sorry." Poor kid. Greyback rarely made a clean kill. How in the blazes had she survived? "Maybe we should talk about something else."

"That's a grand idea," she said with an emphatic nod.

"Are you a student? Still in Hogwarts?" She couldn't be more than eighteen.

"I just graduated."

"Cool. Got some fancy NEWTs ?" How odd it was, to have a perfectly normal conversation with someone who didn't look at him as if they feared he was about to eat their children.

"Uh-huh. All the ones I wanted. Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts and Alchemy."

Alchemy? He didn't even know that was an option. In any case, graduating with seven NEWTs was quite an achievement. "Any idea for the future?"

"A very specific idea, actually, but it's a bit complicated," she said with an air of mild annoyance.

"Because you're stuck here?"

"Well, there's that, yes," she said with a chuckle. "But beyond that, the only person who might take me on as an apprentice disappeared a few weeks ago."

"Ah, yes, that would be a problem. Doesn't he have a replacement, though?"

"I asked that very question when I was at the Ministry last week, trying to find him, but they laughed in my face. Said no one could replace him. And they also said the bloke was unlikely to let me work with him in any case, even if he resurfaced. They told me to start looking for something else, that it was no job for a little girl."

Ouch. "What's the bloke's name?" he asked suddenly. His brother had 'disappeared' a few weeks ago, when they'd moved in here, and he had always been against taking on apprentices because it was a dangerous job. And he worked for the Ministry. But surely, that would be too much of a coincidence.

"Not sure about his first name. They just call him Macnair."

Of course. There's no such thing as a coincidence. "It's Walden," he told her with a small smile.

She stared at him. "You know him?"

"He's my brother. Well, that is, we're not related, obviously, but his father married my mum, so…" He trailed off with a shrug.

"So Macnair's here? You said your brother was here with you."

"Yeah, he's here alright."

"But that's fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's sleeping." And snoring. That was why Tony usually came downstairs at night; his hearing was much more delicate than it used to be.

"Oh, sure. In the morning, then."

Now he was in trouble. "Er… well, it's just… you see, technically, I'm not supposed to be down here," he told her sheepishly. "We're confined in our room for the time being. And um… I don't think Molly will agree to that. I mean, she definitely won't. Hell, I shouldn't even be talking to you. She'll kill me if she finds out." Walden would probably kill him, too. Merlin's toenails, what had he done now?

"I won't tell her I saw you," she said. "I won't tell anyone. Don't worry." She looked like she meant it, but Molly had a bad habit of finding out whatever you least wanted her to find out. Well, he only had himself to blame. He shouldn't have talked to the girl in the first place.

"I really should go," he told her earnestly. "We probably won't see each other around, but it's been nice talking to you. And again, I'm sorry for your loss." Bloody Greyback. Someone really ought to put that mad wolf down.

The girl looked disappointed, but she didn't say anything, so Tony went back to his room.


	6. All I got in my room was shampoo

Evey gave a firm knock on the door. She waited a moment, wondering if they'd heard it, but the door opened abruptly before she could knock again. It revealed a tall, shirtless man.

His left forearm was missing, and his swarthy, muscular chest was a maze of scars in all shapes and colours. It was difficult to focus on his face, all the more since her head was level with his trunk. Finally, she willed herself to look up at him. He sported a scruffy beard and there were more scars there as well. A thin, black one came across his right eye, starting from his forehead and descending almost to the corner of his mouth. His nose must have been broken more than once, and there was another scar on his left cheekbone, this one star-shaped and of an odd, bluish hue that matched the colour of his eyes. She wasn't sure if it qualified as heterochromia or if it was maybe due to the first scar, but his left eye was a deep, almost violet blue, while the right was as clear as a cloudless summer sky. He was absolutely stunning.

The man – Macnair, she assumed – hadn't said anything and was looking down at her with a bored expression. She realised she was gaping slightly and blushed with embarrassment. "Ahem. Good morning," she told him timidly.

He was still silent, but a moment later Tony was beside him. He looked frighteningly pale and incredibly skinny next to the other man, although they were about the same height. "Hi there," he said with a frown. "What are you doing here? Not that I mind, you see, but I told you…" Macnair turned away to walk back inside the room and Tony moved aside to let him pass. "I told you we're not supposed to talk to anyone, especially the kids."

"I'm not a kid," she said coolly. "Look, nobody knows I'm here, I promise. I just needed a break. Please?" she asked him.

He hesitated but eventually stepped back so she could enter. "Alright. Welcome to our lovely… dump." As she took a look around the room, she thought he was more than exaggerating. It was nothing fancy, but they had a large space all to themselves, and it seemed clean enough. "What can I do you for?" he added with a grin.

"I just… I'm tired of everyone hovering around me all the time. When I told them I was going to the loo, I almost thought they would offer to come with me." She grimaced. "I feel like I'm on suicide watch."

"Well, they're worried about you. You can't really blame them."

"I don't, not really, but it's getting on my nerves. It's making it sort of worse, actually. Look, I really don't mean to intrude. I'll go if you want."

"No, no, don't be silly. It's fine. _Mi casa es tu casa_ ," he told her, spreading his hands wide.

" _Muchas gracias_. And with that, I think I've about exhausted my meagre supply of Spanish vocabulary. Can we continue in English?" she asked with a small grin.

Tony laughed. "Yeah, fine with me."

Macnair was reclining on his back in one of the beds, watching television. She did a double take. A television? "Wait a second. How did you get _that_ to work?" she asked, pointing at the device. "I thought Muggle appliances didn't function in these old magical houses. They don't even have electricity!"

"Oh, that. I used to be a magical engineer," Tony said matter-of-factly. "I worked something out. We have a VCR, too," he added with a smile.

She could only stare. She had been so sure that she wouldn't see one of these for the next few months, at the very least. "It's hardly fair. Why do you have a television and we don't?"

"Because we're stuck inside this tiny room with no other distraction whatsoever?" he supplied. "I mean, we've got books, but reading gets boring, after a while." Reading could be boring? That was what she usually spent her holidays doing. "I was never much of a reader," he admitted. He indicated the empty bed. "You can stay and watch telly if you want, but we're halfway through the movie already."

"That's not a problem. I know all the Monty Python movies by heart." She'd recognised 'The Life of Brian' right away. "You sure you don't mind?" She glanced toward Macnair, who still hadn't said a word. He appeared intent on the screen.

"Absolutely sure. And don't mind him. He doesn't like people. It's nothing personal. I'm not even sure he likes me," he said with a sigh. "Anyway, if we're going to get scolded to death by Molly, we might as well make the best of it," Tony said with a shrug. "Wait, I'll turn the bed around." He did, and with surprising ease for someone so skinny. He was a lot stronger than he looked. There was something odd about the former Death Eater. She had already reflected upon it when she met him the other day, but it wasn't until now that she realised what had troubled her. He looked impossibly young, barely older than Evey herself, which made no sense: he had been an adult when he participated in the War, so he ought to be in his late thirties or early forties. Granted, some people aged remarkably well, but the man had spent the last fifteen years or so in Azkaban… The picture from the _Daily_ _Prophet_ article relating his sudden death had made him look much older. Perhaps being away from that dreadful place for a few months had had a positive impact on his looks? It seemed a bit far-fetched. No, something was most certainly off. She couldn't say exactly what it was.

* * *

When the credits began to roll down, Macnair grabbed a book on his bedside table. She wasn't particularly sociable, but he was taking it to a whole new level. No wonder she had been told to find another occupation. Well, she would ask him anyway. This was her only career option. She couldn't begin to imagine doing anything else.

There was something that bothered her, however. She turned to Tony. "You know, when you said you weren't Death Eaters anymore, I didn't think you meant it quite so literally," she said, indicating his left forearm, where Voldemort's mark must have been branded at some point. It wasn't there now. "He didn't actually chop off his own arm, did he?" she asked in a lower voice, cocking her head toward Macnair. "Wait. Did Dumbledore ask him to do it, so he could join the Order?"

"No, of course not. It's nothing like that. Dumbledore was quite happy to see us. We're only confined here because the kids are here for the holidays. He said we could move about more freely when they're gone. As for Walden's arm, I cut it off myself," he told her casually.

"No you didn't." Tony shrugged. "Holy shit! You chopped off your brother's arm?"

"Well, he asked me to," he said defensively, "when he felt Voldemort summoning us last June. He said he didn't want any connection to him and it made sense, you know, since we'd decided to join the Order. We were afraid Voldemort might track us down using the mark somehow. And Walden couldn't cut off his arm himself, so… Let's just say there was a lot of rum involved."

"Yeah, I'll bet," she said warily. "But why couldn't you simply remove the mark, like you did yours?" She pointed to his left arm.

"Oh, I didn't remove it. It removed itself, so to speak." He was gazing at her intently, as if considering how much he should tell her.

"I feel a big revelation coming," she said wryly.

He grinned at her then and, in itself, his smile revealed part of the tale.


	7. Bound by the life you left behind

_4 months ago_

Walden awoke to the sound of someone banging loudly on the front door.

He was used to being roused at all time, night or day, and was therefore quick to come to his senses, but he must have dreamt the knock. No one could come here. The place – the whole property – was heavily warded, not to mention that he was Secret Keeper to its location, and the only other person who knew where the manor lay was dead. And even when he had been alive… Well, it didn't matter. He must have dreamt it. Or maybe Caraid had let something fall again. The house elf wasn't getting any younger.

It was still day, he noticed idly. He hadn't been asleep for long.

He was already drifting back to sleep when the sound came again, louder this time. Bloody hell. Who in the blazes could it be? In all logic, an ill-intended person wouldn't bother to knock, right?

With a sigh, he picked up his wand from under the pillow and walked up to the door. He had been sleeping on the couch, as usual. Caraid probably hadn't heard the commotion; he was almost completely deaf. Walden opened the door wide, hoping to take whoever it was by surprise in case it was in fact a hostile visitor. It was his brother.

His _dead_ brother.

"What the–?" He couldn't be here. He was dead! Merlin's beard, he had received the letter from Azkaban just a fortnight ago. How had he–? "Did you… fake your own death to escape from Azkaban?" That didn't seem possible, but nothing was making sense at the moment.

Antonin grinned at him. "It's good to see you, too." He looked exactly as Walden remembered him: tall and thin and incredibly pale, with raven black hair and mischievous brown eyes. He was clean-shaven. He looked as if he had barely aged a day since he was arrested. He certainly didn't look as though he had spent fourteen years in Azkaban. "But to answer your question, no, I didn't fake it. And it was in no way intentional. That is, I didn't kill myself. That's what they put in the letter, isn't it?"

"Aye." He couldn't believe it. Fourteen years, then an official death notification, and here he was. "What do you mean, you didn't fake it?"

"Well, I died." He looked almost apologetic. "Jeanne killed me, and then she brought me back. She turned me."

"Who?" What the hell was he going on about?

"Jeanne," his brother repeated, cocking his head to the right. When Walden frowned at the empty space beside him – Had he gone mad? Was he hallucinating? – Tony turned his head. "Come on, quit messing around," he said with mild exasperation.

A woman materialised at his side. It wasn't Apparition; most of the grounds were warded against that, just like Hogwarts. She must have been there the whole time and suddenly turned visible, somehow – although how she had walked inside the property in the first place was a mystery. She was slender and quite short, especially standing there beside Antonin, and she was as pale as he was. Her chestnut-brown hair was cut short and she wore a pair of fashionable sunglasses that hid her eyes. "I love your pyjamas, _mon cher_ ," she said with a dazzling smile and a heavy French accent.

That was when he realised he was still in his underwear. He never wore anything else when he slept, or when he was around the house, for that matter. Who was there to scold him? Caraid was almost as blind as he was deaf, and they never had company. Blushing slightly, he retreated, half-closing the door, and grabbed the pair of jeans and the t-shirt he'd thrown on the floor when he came back earlier in the afternoon.

When he opened the door once more, Jeanne's smile turned into a pout. "What a shame. A body like yours, you shouldn't be hiding it under all these clothes. _"_

Tony was shaking his head and looking as embarrassed as Walden felt. "Don't mind her. Can we come in? We need to talk, if it wasn't obvious."

"Sure," Walden said with a shrug. He turned toward the kitchen and took a few steps in that direction, then noticed they weren't following him.

"Er… yeah, you need to invite us in. Stupid rule, that one." His brother looked apologetic once more.

Invite them in? "What are you, a bloody vampire?"

Tony opened his mouth, and his upper canines suddenly became much longer. _You've got to be kidding me_ , Walden thought. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. "Come on in, both of you."

* * *

He offered them tea or coffee but they both declined, Jeanne politely, Antonin with open distaste. "I'm afraid I don't have any blood to offer you at present," Walden said dryly.

"I know, it's just… she made me drink water – just that, stupid, plain water – because she wanted me to understand why I should never try to ingest anything but blood. Long story short, I learned my lesson," Tony said with a grimace. "You wouldn't believe the mess."

"We're sorry to intrude on you like this," Jeanne said. She had removed her sunglasses, and Walden couldn't help but notice that her left eye was missing. The right eye was a limpid blue. "Antonin tells me you're a very busy man."

Walden made a dismissive gesture. She had brought his brother back from the dead; he wasn't going to be annoyed at having his rest disturbed. "I don't understand. If you're a vampire – if you're both vampires – how can you walk in broad daylight?" It wasn't a particularly sunny day, granted, but vampires couldn't stand sunlight, no matter how faint; they were supposed to enclose themselves in a lightproof space during the day. That was Vampires 101.

"We're not mere vampires, _trésor._ We're Ancients," Jeanne told him brightly. "We are the upper-class, the _élite_ , the chosen few. There are only a handful of us."

Walden let out a small laugh. Ancients! Had they also managed to capture a Crumple-Horned Snorkack on their way back from Azkaban? _Merlin's rumpled robes, they're crazy._

Many children of wizarding descent were fed tales of the Ancients, a popular bedtime story. Accordingly, vampires were created millennia ago by Death itself, who was also a vampire, but an exceptional one, with all sorts of fancy abilities. These vampires who were transformed by Death were called the Ancient Ones, and they were presumably figures of legend, Vlad Dracula being the most notable of them all. That particular tale had even made it into Muggle folklore, apparently. The second part of the story claimed that werewolves had been created in the same fashion by Death's nemesis, Famine, and that they'd been competing from time immemorial through their respective minions. It didn't help the tale's credibility that those two were so-called Horsemen of the Apocalypse, if you believed in these things – which Walden didn't. It was truly preposterous. "Quit messing around, lady. It's been a long day, and I have no patience for kiddie tales."

"Wal, she's being serious. The Ancients are real. Everything is real, all the stories. How else do you explain us being vampires and walking in the sun? You're the practical one. Hell, you're probably a direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Think about it." They were both fixing him intently. It wasn't helping their case, actually. Their eyes shone with their fervent desire to make him see the truth – or their version of it. They looked like religious fanatics trying to convince a primitive heathen.

Tony had a point, but there was certainly a much more rational explanation. At this point, the most logical one was that the girl, Jeanne, was another convict, who had somehow escaped her cell and embarked Tony with her. Their time in Azkaban had taken its toll on them, and now they were both stark raving mad. Occam's razor: the simplest explanation was often the correct one. He didn't like to think that his brother had gone insane, however, so he cautiously settled for the second potential answer. "There are potions and artefacts that can allow vampires to walk in the sun," he said quietly. They were known to be of dubious efficacy at best, but maybe they had found a more effective method to achieve the same effect.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Tony asked flatly. "You think the Dementors loosened the few screws I had left."

"I think you're both crazy," Walden admitted.

Jeanne laughed heartily at that. "I suppose we are, _mon mignon._ 'All the best people are', isn't that the saying?"

"And if the Ancients are supposed to be figures of legend, who does that make you? Jeanne d'Arc?" Walden asked sarcastically. "Besides, he's hardly famous," he went on, pointing a thumb in his brother's direction.

"Why is it always her? _La Pucelle d'Orléans_ ," Jeanne said disdainfully. "Infamous is more like it, in most cases," she went on matter-of-factly. "You do know we rarely go by our former names, don't you?"

"I don't _know_ anything," he replied, "but the stories claim that you use aliases to disguise your true identities, yes."

"Well, I'm the Swindler – or _l'Arnaqueuse_ , as I prefer to call myself – but I like you, so I'm going to tell you my little secret," she told him with a mischievous grin that revealed her elongated canines. "My name is Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy, Comtesse de la Motte."

He had heard of her, as a matter of fact. History had always fascinated him, magical and Muggle alike, and they were often intertwined. Jeanne de la Motte was a French woman who, in the 18th century, had managed to steal a diamond necklace with the help of various colourful characters and by using several subterfuges, such as forged letters and a prostitute disguised as the Queen, Marie Antoinette. The operation had been a success, but Jeanne was arrested eventually. She was sentenced to life, but escaped prison by dressing up as a boy. She had ended up in London, where she published her memoirs, and was presumably murdered there, thrown off her hotel room window. It is true that she had supposedly lost an eye in the fatal fall, but that didn't mean this was the same woman. Besides, what were the odds that a vampire just happened to be nearby when she fell, and an Ancient at that? He told Jeanne exactly that.

She chuckled softly. "It doesn't work like that, _mon joli_. There's one of us who spends her time travelling the world, looking for the next likely lad or lass. Considering there are only thirteen of us, and that we've been around for millennia, you can imagine it's not a very rewarding job. But she never stops. She's stubborn, that one." She smiled fondly, thinking of whoever this woman was. "Anyway, she marks down the candidate and appoints him or her a maker. There's an order, you see. We only get one each." She turned to Tony. "I was lucky. There are only two other men, you know, and they're quite ugly. But look how pretty mine is." She sounded like a proud mother discussing her favourite child. "But to go back to the point, what I mean is that we wait until they die before we turn them, to avoid suspicion. We're a secret lot, in case it wasn't yet obvious." She sighed. "But it was different with Antonin." It was odd, the way she pronounced his name, _à la française_. "You see, none of the Ancients are wizards or witches, not even the Bloodmother, the Original One. We are… Muggles, as you call them. _Des Moldus_. That's why the Queen, the one I was telling you about, never searches in places meant for people with magical abilities. She has never visited any of those fancy schools of yours, for example, or the Ministry, and a prison for magicians is the last place she would stop by." She trailed off as Caraid walked in the kitchen, leaning heavily on his cane.

"The Master has company?" the old house elf asked. Blimey, he really _was_ blind.

"Caraid, you old bugger, you're still alive!" That was Tony. "I can't believe it!"

Caraid made no reply. He hadn't heard. Walden crouched beside him and spoke loudly in his ear. "We have everything we need. You can go back to your room, thank you."

Caraid bowed unsteadily. "As you say, Master." He had tried to tell the elf to call him Walden since he was a boy, had even ordered him once, but to no avail. His father said he was too old to change his habits. The house elf retreated slowly, panting with the effort. Walden would have to do something about him, and soon.

Walden turned his attention back to Jeanne. "So how did you find him, then?"

"Pure random coincidence – or fate, if you believe in that sort of things." He didn't. "I was hired to do some reckon in that ghastly place – I like to keep busy – and here he was. I had to ask permission, however, since it's not the way we normally do things. It took some time, but it was eventually granted."

"Reckon? In Azkaban?" Walden repeated with a frown. "Who hired you? What do they want? And how did you get inside Azkaban without…" He trailed off. That last one was pretty obvious; she could turn invisible, apparently. Although that usually didn't fool the Dementors.

"So curious!" Jeanne laughed delightedly. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you, _mon lapin_. Not because I don't want to, you understand. I simply don't know. I specialise in secret dealings, and it is therefore quite legitimate that my clients give no name or reason for their requests."

"Whoever it was, it doesn't bode well." He turned to Antonin. "What happens now? Will you come live here again? Or are you going with her? I mean, you're dead, but if they realise you're not – not entirely – that makes you a prisoner on the run."

"As a matter of fact, that's exactly why we're here," Jeanne said, looking business-like all of a sudden. "You see, fledglings are always encouraged to let go of their past life, of everyone they know, and to start afresh, as much for their own sake as for that of their loved ones, who would flee in terror at the sight of them." She gave Walden another toothy grin. "But as I've said earlier, Antonin is an exception. As a wizard, I knew his family was likely familiar with vampires. And there's also this Voldemort business."

"What do you mean?"

"Antonin tells me the tattoo he wore, the one your… Master… placed on his arm when he became his follower, was getting darker, and that it means Voldemort may be returning, or trying to. Has your own mark become more visible?"

"Aye, it has." And it likely meant that the Dark Lord was already back, somehow, and biding his time until he could return in full strength. How he had achieved that was another matter entirely.

"I want to fight him, see," Tony told him earnestly. "If he comes back, I want to help Dumbledore, be on the good guys' side, for once. I thought maybe we could… join the Order."

"I don't think the Order still exists, Tony. And even if Dumbledore reconstitutes it, I doubt he'll allow us in."

"Come on, it's Dumbledore! The man gives second chances to everyone. He hired Snape at Hogwarts, didn't he? Are you telling me you want to sit on your arse and wait for Voldemort to go away of his own accord? Did you become a coward while I was away?" his brother asked with a smirk.

"You're calling _me_ a coward? Go to hell," Walden muttered.

"I'm already there," Tony replied matter-of-factly.

"Boys, play nice." Jeanne had been observing their exchange with an amused smile. "I think I will leave you two to talk alone. You have much to catch up on." She stood up smoothly. "Antonin, _mon enfant,_ don't forget what I said. You know how to reach me if need be. And if I don't see you until then, remember to be there for the meeting."

Antonin stood up and walked her to the door, and Walden heard them whisper to each other for a moment. "I know how it sounds, Wal," he said when he came back. "Believe me, it's as weird for me as it must be for you. Probably more, in fact." He passed a hand through his hair, something he often did when he was upset or frustrated. "Being an Ancient is not as fun as they make it sound. I can't eat anything. Can you imagine it, being immortal and not being able to eat?" Skinny as he was, he had always loved to eat. "We have to do something. We have to go to Dumbledore, right now, and explain everything. Well, as much as we can, anyway. Nobody else can know exactly what I am, that was the condition for my being allowed to come back here and let you know I'm… alive."

"Tony, what can we tell him that he doesn't already know? You're right about Snape, he's at Hogwarts. He would know about the mark, and he will have told him already. What else do we know for certain? We don't know that Jeanne was hired by a partisan or a Death Eater. It could have been anyone."

"If we wait too long, it might be too late to prevent anything dire from happening," Tony pointed out.

"Something dire will happen no matter what we do," Walden murmured.


	8. Where the shadows lie

"You're an Ancient," Evey said slowly. "Like the ones from the tales? The Pirate, the Dragon, the Queen? Those Ancients?"

"Precisely." Tony grinned at her again, but his fangs weren't showing anymore.

"But I thought… I mean, I read a lot about vampires, you see, and there are a few authors who went as far as to suggest that the Ancients were real, but I understand they were heavily criticised. One of them was even exiled from his native country for his views on the matter, in the early nineteenth century."

"I didn't believe it at first, when Jeanne told me, but then I met the others."

"Do you know who they are? All of them?" That one author who was exiled had mused on the likely identities of the Ancients, but they seemed a bit extravagant to her. Dracula, for example, was too obvious, as was Elisabeth Báthory.

She told Tony as much but, before he could reply, Macnair decided to speak for the first time. He had a deep, quiet voice and, to Evey's disappointment, no trace of a Scottish accent. "I thought you weren't supposed to tell anyone about it," he remarked with a frown.

Tony shrugged. "What difference does it make? Dumbledore must have figured it out already and he would have told the others."

This time Macnair directed his scowl at Evey. "Why is she even here? Does Molly know she's with you?"

"She's here because I like her and it's nice to have someone to talk to. I get barely ten words from you on a regular day. You do realise I've been locked up in Azkaban for fourteen years, don't you? That I had no one to talk to, unless you count Bellatrix, who was right across the hall from me?" He grimaced. It seemed he'd wanted to say that for some time. Being penned up here was certainly weighing on him, and no wonder. Evey had been at the Black house only for a couple of days and was already suffocating, and that was with being allowed to wander freely around the place.

Macnair was still frowning, but he had apparently used up his supply of words for the day, because he turned his attention back to his book. Tony rolled his eyes in frustration. "See what I have to live with?" he told Evey. "He was never talkative but Merlin, I'm going crazy here. I talk to myself most of the time. I wasn't doing that even in Azkaban!"

"Well, I'd love to stay here all day, but that's probably not the best idea." She glanced at her watch. "Actually, I should get back downstairs. They'll start a full-scale search soon if I don't show up. As long as they don't know I've been here, I can keep coming back once in a while," she said a bit hesitantly.

"Yeah, you do that. It might keep the madness at bay." He sent another glare in his brother's direction. "Just make sure Molly doesn't find out, or she'll have our hides."

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door.

* * *

"You think she's still in the loo?" George asked anxiously to no one in particular. "I mean, it's been over an hour."

"Of course she's not, you dolt," Ginny told him. "She probably needed some time alone and no wonder. You and mum are smothering her."

"I don't like to leave her alone," George said with a grimace. "She's depressed, Gin. She might hurt herself."

"Don't be daft. She just needs time to process." Hermione nodded in agreement beside her.

"Well, I'm going to check on her," her brother said as he stood up.

Ginny sighed "Don't. I'll go. I have to get something in our room, anyway," she said. "I'll be right back."

She made her way to the bedroom she shared with Hermione and Evey and knocked on the door softly. When she received no answer, she opened the door. Evey wasn't there, and the bathroom door was ajar. With a frown, Ginny retrieved her chapstick and made her way down to the kitchen, but Evey wasn't there, either. She didn't ask her mother if she'd seen her. She might get worried. Instead, she walked back to the twins' room.

"Is she alright?" George asked before she could even close the door.

"I don't know. She wasn't in our room, and she's not downstairs."

George jumped to his feet. "I knew it! We shouldn't have left her alone."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "She can't have gone very far. Maybe she's upstairs with Buckbeak, or talking with Sirius." She paused. "Um… she knows about Sirius, right? Because she might panic if she runs into him. I mean, she doesn't know the whole story, does she?"

"No, but she never struck me as the sort of person who panics easily," Fred pointed out.

Hermione stood up. "We should find her, just in case," she said, looking at Ginny. The other girl was uneasy, if not quite as jumpy as George.

They went upstairs to the attic and found Sirius rummaging through old boxes. Buckbeak was napping peacefully. Hermione said Evey might have decided to explore the rest of the house, but they couldn't find her anywhere. They tried every room, including the mouldy living room and the rooms their mother had discarded because they were either too encumbered or overrun with Doxies. Finally, Ron pointed out that, unless Evey was hiding in Kreacher's den, she must have gone outside.

"I really don't think she would have stepped out of the house. And actually, there's one place we didn't check," Ginny said grimly. "The vampire's lair."

Ron went pale, as he always did whenever Dolohov was mentioned. "Why would she be there?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, Ronald, but I know where she's not, and that's everywhere we've looked so far."

"It does sound like something she would do," Fred said with a sigh. "If she somehow discovered there was a vampire around…" He trailed off, looking at George, who nodded reluctantly.

Ron swallowed audibly. "We should tell mum."

"Don't be such a chicken," Ginny told him exasperatedly. "Mum is busy ironing, anyway. Let's just go and ask."

They made their way back upstairs, to the last floor, just below the attic, and stopped in front of the Death Eaters' room. Ginny hesitated for a moment, but she couldn't back down now, not after calling Ron a coward. She knocked on the door, and everyone held their breath.

Evey opened the door a moment later.

"What the hell are you doing there?" George asked her before she could speak. "We've been looking all over the place for you! Evey, you're not supposed to be here. They're dangerous."

Evey watched him impassively as he scolded her. "I was just about to go. We were watching a movie," she said casually.

"A what?" Ron asked, obviously confused. Hermione shot him a reproachful glare. She must have explained the concept to him more than once already.

"Never mind," Evey said. "Look, I'm fine. There's no need to make a fuss."

"But there is!" George told her. "Do you even know who they are? _What_ they are?" he amended fiercely.

Ginny was trying to come up with something to calm everybody down, but Evey, at least, kept her cool. "Two former Death Eaters, one of them a vampire," she said matter-of-factly. "I was with you when you read the article about his death, remember?"

"Then you probably remember that he killed my uncles," George snarled. Ginny had never seen him so angry before; in fact, she had rarely seen him angry at all. Their break-up must have hit him harder than she'd assumed.

"George, I don't have to justify myself to you. I'm not a prisoner here – and neither are they." George started to protest but she cut him off. "Dumbledore requested that they stay in their room while you're here, probably because your mum asked him to. They're not captives. They're on our side." She raised her hands so that George wouldn't interrupt her. "It doesn't excuse what he did – what they did – but they're trying to make up for it, alright? At least give them the benefit of the doubt."

"And if Greyback comes begging us to take him in, should we give him a second chance as well?"

They all turned to stare at George in horror and Hermione put a hand over her mouth. Merlin! What was _wrong_ with him?

Evey had gone pale, and suddenly there was a man at her side. None of them had actually seen either Death Eater until then, and it came as more of a shock than she'd anticipated. So this was the man who had murdered their uncles in cold blood, in front of their mother. He was the reason why Ginny had never known them. He looked impossibly young, she reflected.

Dolohov surveyed them all with a dark scowl and Ginny felt Ron recoil slightly beside her. "There's no need to be like that," the Death Eater said eventually. "We're only watching TV. She was just leaving, anyway."

"Well, I'm not leaving anymore," Evey said flatly. Without another glance at them, she walked back inside the room.

The vampire frowned after her then turned his attention back to them – to George, more specifically. "What's wrong with you, lad? Who says things like that?" he asked in a low voice. "I'm far from perfect, but at least I don't make girls cry on purpose." He sighed resignedly. "Go tell your mother, if you must. I'll take whatever's coming." With that, he pushed the door shut.


	9. A story of the impossible

Evey sat down on Macnair's bed. He looked up sharply from his book, frowning. "I need to ask you something," she said without preamble. He didn't say anything, but simply settled his eyes on hers. "What happens to people who are bitten by a werewolf when the moon isn't full?"

He was silent for a moment. "Women will die, whether the moon is full or not," he said eventually. "Men will be scarred for life, if they survive the attack." He indicated a large, red scar on his upper arm. It had clearly not healed properly. "When a vampire bites, his saliva will heal the wound. It will even anaesthetise the punctured area, so the victim might not feel it at all, if they're asleep. But a werewolf's saliva works the other way around. It will contaminate the wound, make it painful and near-impossible to heal, at least not completely." Well, apparently he could talk, when he found the subject to his taste. "You know, even among men, the survival rate is quite low. Roughly a man in twelve will eventually become a werewolf. A good deal won't survive the initial bite, either because the wound was too dire or because the saliva is lethal to them. And for those who make it through the attack, there will be a fair number who won't survive the first transformation. It is said to be excruciating; some men will die simply because they can't handle the sheer agony of it."

She already knew all that. It wasn't what she wanted to know. "Has there ever been a case where a woman survived a–"

He didn't let her finish. "No. Never." His tone brooked no argument and he was already getting back to his book.

She stared at him indignantly. It was one thing to be asocial, and another to be downright rude! She grabbed the book and his eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe she would dare. "I wasn't finished," she told him coolly, placing the book in her lap. "I was attacked by Greyback. Can you think of a reason why he would leave me completely unmarked?"

He was glaring at her. "Look, lass, if Tony wants to talk with you, it's fine, but leave me alone, alright? It's bad enough that we're stuck here, I don't need this on top of everything else."

"Damn, Wal, can't you at least be civil?" Tony said. "You act like a bloody caveman! She just wants to ask you some questions, she's not doing any harm, for Merlin's sake!"

Macnair said something in a language she didn't understand before pursuing in English. "You think I enjoy being locked up any more than you do?" he asked his brother. "This was your idea, burn you. If you're not happy about it, it's not my problem. Now will you both leave me the hell alone?"

There was another knock on the door. "For fuck's sake!" Macnair stood up and almost tore the door off its hinges. "What?"

It was Mrs Weasley. Evey saw Macnair tense when she narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you out of clean shirts, dear?" the Weasley matriarch asked with an arched eyebrow.

"No, ma'am," Macnair mumbled.

"Then put something on, please. We're not animals."

Macnair walked back inside the room, looking subdued and rummaged through the wardrobe until he found a short-sleeved grey shirt. He put it on with some difficulty. _Blimey, I need to know how she does that_ , Evey thought wonderingly. Mrs Weasley turned toward her. "Evey, dear, I think you will be more comfortable downstairs." It didn't sound like a suggestion.

"I'm perfectly at ease here, thank you. Besides, they have a television," Evey said matter-of-factly. And quite a lot of books. Why go downstairs, when she had everything she needed right here?

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips. "Well, if it doesn't bother Walden and Antonin, I'm sure you can stay a bit longer. But dinner will be served in the dining room for everyone, no exception."

"No exception, except them?" Evey asked, cocking her head toward the two brothers.

"Antonin doesn't eat, dear, and Walden prefers to eat here. Kreacher cooks for him and brings up his meals."

"Can't Kreacher bring up my meal, too?" She didn't mean to be rude – she got along quite well with Mrs Weasley and she was an amazing cook besides – but she didn't fancy having dinner with the others just now.

"Brat," she heard Macnair mutter. She didn't think Mrs Weasley heard him, but his brother likely did.

Tony cleared his throat. "She's welcome to stay here, if she wants. We don't mind," he added with a pointed glance in Macnair's direction.

Mrs Weasley ignored him. "I would rather you came downstairs, Evey. For dinner, at least."

Evey sighed. "Fine." But she would be staying here afterward, she decided, whether Mrs Weasley agreed or not. "When do I have to come down?"

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Don't forget to wash your hands," Mrs Weasley added before departing.

* * *

Evey rounded on Macnair as soon as the door was closed. "As I was saying…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake! If I answer your questions, will you leave and never come back?" Macnair asked hopefully.

She gave him a level stare. "I _will_ come back." He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "But I won't bother you again, I promise."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for," he said resignedly as he sat back on his bed. "What else did you want?"

"I have at least two good reasons to believe Greyback bit me," she told him evenly.

"How many times do I have to tell you–"

"I _know_ , alright? I know women usually don't survive. Just hear me out, will you? And if you quit interrupting me all the time, your ordeal will be over that much sooner." He gestured for her to go on. "My eyesight is perfect." He frowned at her. "I've been wearing lenses since I started elementary school, but now I don't need them anymore."

"What does that have to do with anything? I'm not a Healer, lass."

"First you won't talk and now you won't shut up. Let me finish, for goodness's sake." He glared at her. "Don't you think it's weird that it happened just after Greyback attacked us? Werewolves have perfect eyesight, don't they?" He didn't reply. "Good, you're learning. Secondly," she went on, "I have no scars."

"Yes, I got that part already," he muttered.

"No, I mean even the ones I had before, they're all gone." He looked up at that. "I only noticed this morning. I didn't have that many scars, see, so I didn't realise right away. But the few I had, they're gone."

"That doesn't make any sense," Macnair said. "Even if he did bite you and you survived, somehow, werewolf bites don't go away like that. Hell, Greyback himself has a scar from when he was turned. And it doesn't matter if the moon is full or not. If he'd bitten you, there would be a mark, lass."

"I know, but–"

"Anyway, I don't know what you want with me. I'm not a werewolf expert. Besides, you were there. Don't you know what happened?"

"I don't remember most of it," she admitted.

"Don't you think you should start with that, instead of pestering me? Maybe Greyback Obliviated you, for whatever reason. Dumbledore should be able to tell." She didn't say anything. He gave her a shrewd look. "You haven't told anyone else, have you?"

She shook her head. "The last thing I need right now is more attention."

Macnair appeared to consider it. "Then have Tony do it. He can use Legilimency. He's good with that."

Evey turned to Tony. "Um… I don't think that's a good idea," the vampire said.

"Please? I'm an orphan of war." He stared at her incredulously and she heard Macnair snort. "I know it's low, but I'll use whatever works," she went on unabashedly.

"Alright, fine. But not now. It'll take time, and it'll likely leave you in a frightful state. We don't want Molly to see you like that. She'd kill me for sure."

"You're immortal," Evey pointed out.

"Immortal, not invincible," Tony said. "And it's Molly we're talking about. I don't like my chances."

"Fair enough. After dinner, then." She looked at her watch. "I should go. I won't be long," she added as she opened the door.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking, letting her in like that?" Walden asked. "Tony, that girl is trouble."

"Why? Because she was bitten by Greyback and survived?"

"Don't be daft. She's shocked, traumatised. Voldemort must have used Greyback to send a message, or a warning, or something like that. He wasn't supposed to harm the girl and that's why she lives." That was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"And how do you explain the rest? Her eyesight, the scars?"

Walden sighed. "You're just as bad as she is. Don't you listen when I talk? If it's such a rare occurrence, the least you could do is pay attention when it happens," he said wryly.

"You didn't give any explanation for it," Tony countered.

"Because it's unrelated to whatever happened with Greyback! Tony, even if she _was_ bitten, those are not symptoms of lycanthropy. Existing scars don't simply vanish when a man becomes a werewolf."

"But how can you know the symptoms if it's never happened to a woman before?"

Walden stared at him. "That's not…" He trailed off. "That's irrelevant. It's _impossible_. Don't you see? It's all in her head. Most likely, this is some sort of elaborate coping mechanism."

Tony was silent for a moment. "Fine, maybe you're right. We'll find out tonight, I guess," he said with a grimace. "Whatever possessed you to tell her I was a Legilimens? I don't want to see what happened."

"Well, I don't want her here at all, but I don't remember being consulted about it," Walden retorted angrily.

"Damn, Wal, she's just a kid! Why are you being such a twat?" Tony asked with a frown. "You used to be so nice. Too nice, mum always said."

"She also said it would get me in trouble and it did. I've learned my lesson. Just make sure she stays out of my way," he added before getting back to his book.


	10. I had a dream, which was not all a dream

Tony watched TV for a while as he waited for Evey to come back, without really paying attention to what was being said. Damn Walden. He was an apt Legilimens, true, but he had only ever used the ability for entirely different purposes. Women were always pleasantly impressed when a man knew what they were thinking, what they wanted.

But to sneak inside Evey's mind, to witness what happened… He shuddered. He'd seen the works of Greyback before.

On the other hand, he was curious, he had to admit. Could the werewolf really have bitten her? He wondered what that meant, if that was the case. Walden's explanation made much more sense, of course, but the girl seemed lucid enough, given the circumstances.

Before long, there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," he called out.

Evey stepped in quietly and walked up to him. She sat beside him on the bed. "Let's do this," she said determinedly.

"Right now?" he asked. "We can wait a bit. Let you digest all that food."

She shook her head. "I'd rather get it over with. Before I lose my nerve," she murmured.

Tony sighed. "You're sure?" She nodded. "Alright, fine." He turned to face her and gazed into her eyes. "Just relax. Try to focus on that night, on whatever you remember. Don't fight me. And if you want me to stop, say so right away." She nodded again, looking pale but resolute.

He didn't need to borrow Walden's wand for this – his own had been destroyed after he was sentenced to life in Azkaban – and he cast the spell nonverbally. How odd to realise that, even after all these years, he could still practice Legilimency as easily as he ever had.

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. The girl's mind was full of the same image, the same scene repeated over and over. A tall boy of about fifteen was flying across the room, and his course ended brutally against a wall, where his head burst open from the violence of the impact. Merlin, no wonder she had blocked whatever else happened that night.

He could tell she was not fighting him consciously, but she still attempted to prevent him – or herself – from seeing what came next. Greyback hadn't contented himself with hurting her. Tony almost cut the connection when the werewolf threw her on the bed, but she wanted to know and he couldn't sort through it all as easily as he would like. They had to take it as it came.

Her recollection got a bit clouded after that, but it was clear enough that Greyback had indeed bitten her then apparently left Evey for dead when he'd had his fun with her. Considering the wounds she'd suffered, Tony would have expected her to die as well, even if her assailant hadn't been a werewolf. There was blood everywhere.

He couldn't say for sure how she'd ended up in Hogsmeade afterward; one moment she was in her bed, lying in a pool of blood, and the next she was banging frantically on the front door of the Hog's Head. She must have Apparated without realising it, somehow. He noticed that her injuries were already gone by that time, however, although the blood that marred her torn clothes was still there.

He let go of her mind slowly, carefully, and focused on her, the present version of her that was sitting cross-legged in front of him. She was almost as white as he was, but she appeared remarkably calm. She wasn't crying, either, though her eyes had taken on a faraway look. "Evey?" he whispered. "Are you alright, kid?"

She blinked at him, as if she was only now coming out of her trance. "Fine." Her voice was barely audible, even to him. "Thank you."

That had to be the most improbable thing anyone had ever thanked him for. "You want to lie down?"

She nodded slightly and curled up in a ball in his bed. He left her to her thoughts, unsure what to do. Walden was looking at them, frowning, but he shifted his gaze back to his book when Tony caught him watching.

Before a minute had gone by, he noticed that Evey had fallen asleep.

* * *

"She can't stay all night," Walden muttered. "Molly will be here any second to check on her. I'm surprised she hasn't come by yet."

It was odd, admittedly, but not the oddest thing that had happened tonight. "Wal, he really bit her. And don't tell me someone implanted fake memories in her head. It's gruelling work and I can't think of a reason why anyone would bother. Besides, I've seen fabricated memories before and those certainly weren't."

"It's impossible," Walden said. "It's never happened before – _never_ , Tony. Not since there are werewolves roaming the earth, nowhere in the world has it ever happened. Werewolf bites are fatal to women. He can't have bitten her. It's _impossible_ ," he repeated stubbornly.

"'It's only impossible until someone does it for the first time _,_ '" Tony said with a bitter smile. "How many times must I tell you that? You also said using electricity to create magical devices was impossible, but I did it."

"Those are two completely different issues," Walden pointed out. "Maybe she created the memories herself. It's not unheard of."

"Why in the blazes would she create memories like _that_? People do that to avoid the harsh truth, not to make things worse!"

"But it doesn't make any sense," Walden said with exasperation.

"Not everything makes sense, you know. I'm _immortal_ , for Merlin's sake. Is it really so hard for you to conceive that a woman might have survived a werewolf bite?" He could be so rigid, sometimes.

There was a knock on the door. Walden glared at him and turned his attention back to his book. Whatever happened next was not his problem. The door opened before Tony could move and Molly narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Is Evey still here?" she demanded.

"Um… yes. She's sleeping." He tucked his thumb in the girl's direction.

Molly's eyes widened in outrage. " _Sleeping?_ She can't sleep here!"

Tony raised his arms in a placating gesture. "No, no, I know. She just… um… she was feeling a bit out of sorts, so I told her to lie down a moment and then she fell asleep," he explained haltingly. "I mean, she hasn't slept much since… since she arrived here. Or before that, I guess."

Molly barged inside the room and made her way to Tony's bed. She placed a hand lightly on Evey's shoulder. "Wake up, dear. It's time to go to bed." The girl didn't react. She was snoring softly.

"Maybe you should let her sleep here?" Tony said tentatively. "I'll go somewhere else, if you want. And Walden will be sleeping, anyway."

Molly was shaking her head firmly. "No. Absolutely not." She addressed the girl once more. "Evey," she said a little louder than before, "let's get you in your own room, dear. You'll be more comfortable."

Evey uncurled slowly from her foetal position and turned around, her eyes opening a fraction. "I think I'll stay here, thank you," she murmured sleepily.

"No, no, you can't sleep here. Come now," Molly said with determination.

"Mrs Weasley," the girl muttered, "if I go to my own bed now, you can be sure I won't be sleeping and that means I'll be back here in a jiffy to try and finally get some rest. I haven't slept for more than minutes at a time since I woke up at Hogwarts." She smiled drowsily. "I promise we'll be chaste."

Uh-oh. Now he was dead for sure.

Molly looked at Evey in shock before turning to him, hands on her hips, and waved a threatening finger in his direction. "If you – if either of you! – even _think_ of–"

"Molly, come on! She's just a kid. It never even crossed my mind, I swear." That wasn't entirely true, but he couldn't blush anymore and that meant he could lie much more smoothly than before. Besides, it had been nothing more than an idle thought. He had been in Azkaban for fourteen years, for Merlin's sake. Have some mercy.

Molly studied him for a long time. "Just tonight," she said eventually. "The door remains open. And you stay away from that bed!" she added dangerously.

"I won't go anywhere near it, I promise." He took a few steps away from the bed. He wouldn't put it past Molly to stand watch in the hall all night to make certain he respected that condition. He glanced down at the girl and realised she'd drifted off to sleep once more.

"Very well," Molly said. "But just tonight!" she repeated before stepping briskly out.

* * *

Molly walked away hesitantly, but she forced herself not to look over her shoulder.

Of course, she had expected some difficulties when Dumbledore explained what had happened to Evey and announced that she would be staying here, and not only because of her history with George. Although if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she had hoped they might reconcile. She rather liked the young woman, despite her fiery temperament. She had been a surprisingly positive influence on her son in the few months they'd been together.

She shouldn't have agreed to let Evey stay in Antonin's room. He might fancy himself a capable liar, but she knew him better than he thought. He'd always been a ladies' man. Still, she had faith that he wouldn't do anything foolish. Walden would make certain he behaved, in any case. He was quite sensible, for a man. And the girl did need to sleep. Ginny and Hermione had told Molly that, whenever they woke up, Evey was always wide awake and staring out the window. If being upstairs helped her sleep… Well, in any case, it was only the one night.

It was not that Antonin was a bad person, far from it – in spite of everything that had happened. He was incredibly kind and supportive and he had helped taking care of the children more than once. He hadn't joined Voldemort because he despised Muggles or believed in Pure-blood supremacy. He had simply been young and enticed by the opportunity that presented itself to him, by the promise that the world would be open to him. His job at the Ministry had been unsatisfying, a real disappointment to him, who always overflowed with ambitious ideas and projects.

As for what happened with Fabian and Gideon… It was evident that Walden and Antonin were there against their will. She remembered it quite clearly. The Lestrange woman had been in charge, and she had pointed her wand at Molly's brothers, once they'd been restrained – they had been caught by surprise, and they were outnumbered. Bellatrix had donned a twisted grin when her husband explained the situation. Walden hadn't dared gaze at Molly, but Antonin had given her a stricken look. They were both dishevelled and Antonin was even skinnier and paler than usual. She'd shaken her head at him – she'd been Silenced by one of the Lestranges, but he should understand what she meant. It was pointless, she knew – even then, she'd known her brothers would die; she was only surprised that she'd been left alive.

They'd had no choice, not that day, but that didn't mean she forgave them. They had turned their back on Dumbledore willingly and youth couldn't excuse everything – and certainly not murder.


	11. And life's usually so much fairer

_Fifteen years ago_

Antonin stood next to Walden, the Dark Lord gazing down on them. More Death Eaters stood behind them, waiting in silence.

Tony spoke quickly. "My Lord, I don't how it happened. I'm quite sure the girl was securely bound. I–"

The Dark Lord raised a silencing hand. He spoke softly. "Do you take me for a fool, Antonin?"

Tony swallowed. "I... no, of course not, my Lord. I–"

"You let the girl go. No, do not deny it. I know you did." He gestured toward Walden. "I have read it in his mind. He is not quite as capable an Occlumens as you are."

"Traitors!" Bellatrix shouted from somewhere behind them.

The Dark Lord smiled thinly. "Such a bizarre weakness. You have tortured so many men in my name, often causing irreparable damage and yet you couldn't bring yourself to harm this one girl." He cocked his head slightly, as if trying to find a new angle of perspective. "Of course, weakness will not be tolerated. You do not realise what you have cost us. That girl was a valuable hostage. She would have given us an advantage over the Order that cannot now be regained."

"My Lord, I–" he began again.

"You shall speak when commanded!" The Dark Lord's eyes flashed in sudden anger. He turned to someone behind Antonin. "Rabastan, please commence punishment while I decide what to do with these worms."

Tony closed his eyes, bracing himself for the oncoming pain. He heard his fellow Death Eater cast the curse. " _Crucio!_ "

Nothing happened. Then he felt Walden fall to his knees beside him, grunting in pain.

Tony's eyes flew open. He turned to his brother, staring in horror. Facing the Dark Lord once more, he spoke with urgency. "My Lord, it was me. I let the girl go. It was my idea! Walden had nothing to do with it. He didn't even know!" He glanced to his left as his brother started to scream. "My Lord, I beg you–" He fell to his knees. "I will find her. I will track her down and bring her back here. I'll make her talk. Please, I–"

"We both know that's not going to happen. Dumbledore will have her securely locked away. There is no retrieving her now." He paused, looking thoughtful.

Walden's agonizing cries were getting weaker. If he was kept under the curse much longer, there could be permanent damage. Tony opened his mouth to plead again, but the Dark Lord cut him off with a wave of his hand. Tony closed his eyes, unbidden tears streaming down his face, and waited.

At last, the Dark Lord commanded Lestrange to stop. Tony scrambled back to his feet, wanting to make sure his brother was alright. He was abruptly thrown into the air and soon found himself hanging upside down, Walden out of his line of sight. He could hear him whimper somewhere nearby.

The Dark Lord spoke again. "Augustus. This piece of information you brought to my attention earlier… are you quite certain of its reliability?"

Rookwood answered, his voice tinged with apprehension. "Great Lord, it comes from a very reliable source. I think we can safely hold it true."

The Dark Lord gave an approving nod. "Very good." He turned to someone else. "Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, you will find this place tonight and proceed as discussed. You will take these two with you and make sure they… participate."

Bellatrix let out a wild cackle. Her husband answered quietly. "As you command, my Lord, so shall it be done."

The Dark Lord turned his daunting gaze back to Antonin. He looked even more terrible from Tony's vantage point. "I expect a positive outcome to this little sortie. Anything else will mean harm to your brother. You are too valuable to be disposed of, but he is expendable at this point."

Antonin nodded vigorously. "As you command, my Lord. I won't fail."

"Do not disappoint," the Dark Lord said in a threatening voice. He gestured briefly and Antonin fell to the ground, hitting it hard.

* * *

They were standing in the shadows across the street from a plain-looking brick house. It was freezing cold. Antonin blew some warm air into his cupped hands. "So… what are we doing here exactly?" he asked, glancing at Walden.

Bellatrix glared at him menacingly. "Keep your mouth shut, maggot!"

Her husband gave them both a sharp glance. "Will you be quiet?" He looked back to the house. There was light coming from the only visible window on the ground floor. "Bella, Stan, you get in first. I'll follow. You two," he went on, indicating Tony and Walden, "you stand watch outside until we tell you to come in. Let's go."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't we wait for whoever's in there to go to bed?"

Rodolphus let out an annoyed sigh. "It doesn't matter. They won't expect us. We will have the element of surprise and they'll be outnumbered besides. Let's go," he said again, more forcefully.

The five crossed the road, keeping to the shadows. Bellatrix walked ahead and did not break stride when she came to the front door, blasting it open with a nonchalant flick of her wand. Tony and Walden waited outside as instructed. Shouts came from inside, accompanied by flashes of light. He heard a woman scream. Of course. The Dark Lord was getting back at him in the worst possible way. He felt sick. _Focus, damn you!_ _If you screw this up, Walden is as good as dead._ Glancing at his brother, he noticed how uncommonly pale he looked.

The house was suddenly quiet. Rodolphus called from inside. "Get in."

Taking a deep breath, Tony went in, Walden on his heels. He almost walked into Molly.

He would have recognised that hair anywhere. She was stuck in mid-air, arms hanging stiffly at her sides, her back to him. For a moment, he could only stand there, gaping. _No. Not this. Anything but this._

Bellatrix shook him out of his stupor. "Move, you filthy rat! Get in!" She pushed him further inside the house.

On the other side of the room, two flame-haired men had been bound to a chair. They were staring angrily at Rodolphus, who stood watching them quietly a few paces away. Bellatrix's husband looked incredibly bored. Beside him, Rabastan had his wand pointed at Molly.

Then the other men spotted Antonin and Walden. Their angry expressions turned shocked. He couldn't meet their eyes. He couldn't look at Molly either. He couldn't… "I can't. Don't make me do this," he murmured with a pleading look in Rodolphus's direction. "Please."

Bellatrix gave a maniacal laugh. "Idiot! Did you think it would be easy? Did you really think you could deceive the Great Lord and not suffer for it?" She snorted. "You naïve Half-blood. You don't _deserve_ this opportunity. You should have been killed. Very slowly." She leered at him. "I can't _wait_ to get to work on your dear brother. Punishing him will be quite pleasant. I will kill him as you watch, vermin."

Rodolphus cut in before she could ramble on. "Do you question the will of the Great Lord, my wife?" She gave him an outraged glare, opening her mouth to retort. He didn't let her. "He is too valuable, fool woman. He will be punished accordingly to the Great Lord's will and no more." His wife's gaze should have set him afire. He ignored her, turning his attention back to Antonin. "Here's the deal. Either you kill one each," he pointed at Fabian and Gideon, "or Bella and I kill the three of them, and we'll make it as painful as we can. If you do as you're told, the woman goes free. It's quite simple, really." He looked at Tony and Walden expectantly.

"I…" Tony started. He took a deep breath. "Will you really let her go, alive and unscathed? I want your word on it, Rod. Yours, not hers," he added, cocking his head toward Bellatrix.

The other wizard nodded. "You have my word. No harm will come to her. I will make sure of it."

Tony closed his eyes. Memories came rushing by. Countless dinners at the Burrow. Playing with the kids, teaching them how to use the small brooms he'd gotten them for Christmas. Molly laughing so hard at his silly jokes that she was crying. He opened his eyes to look at her. She was staring at him, crying, eyes pleading. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He turned to Walden, who looked ready to faint. The message passed between them silently. What else could they do? They had saved some random girl they didn't know and now they had to pay for it. Molly had to pay for it. Swallowing hard, they raised their wands, arms shaking, and pointed them at the Prewett twins.

The room flashed green.


	12. However improbable, it must be the truth

Evey woke up with the sun, feeling invigorated. Finally, a full night of restful sleep. She stretched languorously.

Tony was sitting against the opposite wall. He had a book in his hands but was looking out the window longingly. "Morning," she said quietly. She didn't know if Macnair was awake yet.

Tony turned to face her and smiled brightly. He stood up and joined her on the bed after glancing briefly toward the open door. "Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Great, improbably enough," she replied truthfully. She felt full of energy and hungry as a bear. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she told him softly. She was more than a little embarrassed, knowing exactly what he'd witnessed. Embarrassment was probably the last thing she should feel, but she couldn't help it. It just added to the crushing, unwarranted guilt she couldn't quite dispel. She was gifted in the use of wandless magic; she should have done something, anything, to save her family. Instead she had just stood there, paralysed with fear and watched helplessly as Greyback murdered one of the people she loved most in the world. Not a minute went by that she didn't replay the scene in her head. She should have done _something_ , damn her.

Tony's grin faded. "I'm sorry you had to go through it in the first place."

She made a dismissive gesture; she didn't want to expand on the matter. "About the bite part, though…" she said. "Macnair is right. It shouldn't be possible."

His smile was back. "You can call him Walden, you know. Anyone who's withstood his snores earns that right."

"Most likely, the snores just lulled me into sleep. Both my dad and my brother snored like chainsaws," she told him with a shrug. "I guess I'm used to the sound."

"Lucky you," he said with a grimace. "Anyway, about the bite," he went on more seriously. "Er… well, I've got nothing, actually," he told her with a sheepish grin. "I don't know shit about werewolves, except the basic facts. In any case, this is uncharted territory. Nobody would know anything about this particular situation." He hesitated. "Have you noticed any other… symptoms, besides the eagle eyes and smooth skin?"

She thought about it for a minute. "I think my metabolism is faster than it used to be. I've lost some weight since the attack and I've been eating normally. More than usual, actually. I thought I might simply be eating my grief, but with what we know now..." She sighed. "It's hard to say what's due to emotional response or shock and what might come from the bite."

"Do you know where he bit you, exactly?" Macnair asked.

She turned toward him, startled. She hadn't realised he was awake. He was sitting against the head of his bed and he was still wearing the t-shirt he'd put on the day before. "In the shoulder. Right shoulder, I think." Tony nodded.

"Can I see it?"

"My shoulder?" she asked with a frown. "I guess." She walked up to him and sat down on his bed.

She was wearing a simple tank top. He removed the strap and passed his right hand on her shoulder. "Do you feel anything? Does it tingle or something?" It did tingle a bit, but it didn't have anything to do with the bite, so she shook her head. "There's no trace at all, nothing." He sounded puzzled. "Where else did you have a scar, before all that?" he asked after a moment.

"On my knee." She moved to present him with her left knee and pointed at a specific spot. "Here. It looked like a small hook." She traced an imaginary hook where the scar had been. The skin was entirely smooth now, of course. He placed his hand there too and she shivered slightly. _He could at least ask, before doing that_ , she thought irritably.

"If it's true…" he began to say.

She rolled her eyes. "Look, if you're going to keep doubting me at every turn–"

"I believe you, alright?" he said quietly. "But you have to understand, you might as well be telling me that the earth is square or that the sky is pink. I need to think it through." He was silent for a moment. "How bad was your eyesight?"

"I was short-sighed and astigmatic. Everything was a bit blurry when I wasn't wearing my lenses and I couldn't have watched the television from the bed."

He seemed to consider it. "I'm not sure how it works for them. True werewolves, I mean. I don't know if those with impaired sight gain perfect vision when they're turned. A werewolf's senses are enhanced, of course, but only during the full moon. You might want to ask that Lupin bloke. Maybe he'll know more."

"Professor Lupin? Why, is he here?"

"Not all the time, I think, but he was there when we arrived," Tony said. He was leaning against the wall, between the two beds. "But if she asks, they'll know something's up."

Macnair – Walden, she amended – gave his brother a pointed look. "She can't keep it to herself forever. Do you have any idea how important this is?"

"So you want to turn her into a circus freak? Because that's what's going to happen, if anyone finds out. I think she could do without that right now."

Evey cleared her throat to get their attention. "Don't fight over me," she said with a smirk. She looked at Walden. "I'm certainly not telling anyone at present. You can look into it, if you want, but I don't want anyone else involved."

He held her gaze steadily. "As you wish. I'm not sure what I can do, though."

"You can help me puzzle it out, for starters. I'm not sure what good it will do, but I'd like to know the extent of the damage."

"Damage?" Walden repeated with a frown. "It doesn't sound like damage to me. Extra perks, more like. Don't you realise how lucky you are to even be alive?"

She grimaced. "Oh yes, lucky me. I lost my entire family, but my eyesight is perfect. That's just bloody fantastic."

"That's not what I meant," he mumbled.

She sighed. "I know. Let's just take it one step at a time, see if anything else happens." She paused, struck by a sudden thought. "You don't think I'll actually turn into a werewolf, do you?"

"We won't know until next month. The full moon is on 10th August. But I doubt it will be the case," he added quickly. "He wasn't transformed himself, was he? The last full moon occurred the week before he attacked." She nodded. "Then I think we can rule that out. We'll do as you say and just record any odd thing. If there is any. Besides, for all we know, this is temporary."

"I'm temporarily alive?" she asked with a scowl.

"No, I mean that maybe the… effects… will wear out. I don't know. We'll see. Anyway. I hope you were not planning on using our bathroom on top of everything," Walden said as he walked toward the other room.


	13. The shield that guards the realms of men

She spent most of her time upstairs after that first night. Walden didn't seem to mind as much as he made it sound and Tony was positively beaming. They had improbable discussions, watched television, played games, or sometimes simply sat in silence and read. Mrs Weasley gave up trying to have her come down and stay with the others the morning after she slept there for the first time. Evey stood her ground almost defiantly, in front of everyone, and said she would remain in the Death Eaters' room whether they liked it or not. She would sleep there, too. Unless they would like to strap her to her bed in the girls' room? she had asked wryly.

She realised she was being a brat, as Walden said, but she felt more at home with the outsiders than with anyone else, although she spent an entire afternoon talking with Sirius in the attic, when she found out there was a hippogriff there. Nobody had told her why the former Azkaban inmate was here, so she asked him directly. It was quite a story. She wanted to know how people went about becoming Animagi, but he kindly explained that it was a long, incredibly arduous process and that it was ideally achieved with proper, official assistance. She resolved to look into it when she had a decent library at her disposal.

On 6th August, Harry joined them at the Grimmauld Place. She'd heard about the Dementor attack in Little Whinging and she also knew that Harry would have to attend a formal hearing at the Ministry in a few days. It seemed preposterous to her that anyone would consider Harry to be in the wrong – he had been _attacked_ by _Dementors_ , for crying out loud, creatures who were supposed to be under the authority of the Ministry – but apparently, there was still a chance that he might be expelled from Hogwarts for using magic outside of school. It didn't make any sense but, as Ginny pointed out, the wizarding world didn't hold Harry in high esteem at the moment. They had shown her several articles from the _Daily Prophet_ in which they basically said that Harry was loony. She hadn't realised that the Ministry – and its puppet, the sacrosanct newspaper – refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return; she had never received the _Daily Prophet_ at home. And she had assumed that Professor Dumbledore would deal with the situation before anyone even had time to register what was happening. Clearly, she had overestimated him.

Thankfully, however, it seemed that everything turned out well – at least as far as Harry's case went. He was acquitted and allowed to return to Hogwarts with the others the next month.

Soon, September was upon them. The kids went back to school and life at the Black house changed drastically. Mrs Weasley was supposed to return to the Burrow, but she hesitated to leave Evey alone with Tony and Walden, even though Sirius would remain at the Headquarters. They had an animated discussion about it, but Evey was adamant that she would not be going anywhere without the other two. In the end, it was settled that Mrs Weasley would come by twice a week to make sure everything was in order – and that Evey was being properly fed, presumably.

Kreacher, the Blacks' old house elf, could be a real pain in the back when addressing most people, Sirius included, but he practically worshipped Walden, presumably because he was a Pure-blood wizard and it wasn't obvious to Kreacher that he had turned his back on Voldemort. Sirius's clear disdain toward the former Death Eaters may have something to do with that. In any case, the house elf fed him the most scrumptious meals every day without fault. He tolerated Antonin, but it hardly mattered since the vampire didn't have to eat. It was soon obvious that Sirius would have to cook his own meals, however. Kreacher couldn't disobey a direct order from his master, but when commanded to bring Sirius food, it would consist of a decomposed rat or possibly mashed Doxies. The house elf seemed unsure how to address Evey. She was Muggle-born, so in all logic he should have despised her, as he had Hermione, but it was clear that she was a friend of Walden and Kreacher appeared reluctant to anger him. He therefore settled for ignoring her, although at Walden's request, he brought her proper meals when she didn't feel like cooking for herself. When he realised that, Walden also tried to convince the house elf to cook properly for Sirius, but Kreacher drew the line there, apparently.

As a result, Evey had to make sure that Sirius ate regularly, because his morale was spiralling downwards as the days wore on and he couldn't be bothered to cook. They tried to spend as much time with him as he would allow, but no matter what they did, he became gloomier by the day. She soon began to hope that Harry would be back for the winter break.

Early in October, they all settled down in the dining room for breakfast as usual – Evey had cooked some extra bacon and eggs for Sirius – but he only seemed to be pushing the food around listlessly. She tried to engage him in conversation but he only grumbled in reply, so she turned to Walden. "I never really asked about Witherwings – Buckbeak," she said. "Why was he sentenced to death in the first place? I mean, I know he scratched Malfoy, but the whiny little shit asked for it, didn't he? It would never stand in trial."

Walden shook his head. "Hagrid shouldn't have had hippogriffs there in the first place. They're classified as XXX, only to be handled by competent wizards. I'm not saying Hagrid's not competent, but third years are a little young for that sort of things. Now, of course Malfoy had it coming, but lawfully, Hagrid was at fault. He's lucky he didn't receive a formal blame and wasn't sacked. I'm sure Dumbledore played a part in that."

Sirius roused from his apathetic state. "And I'm sure Lucius Malfoy had nothing to do with sentencing the poor beast to death," he said with a sneer.

"He certainly sped things along. He always does," Walden replied quietly. "But the judge would have passed the same verdict, even if Lucius hadn't involved himself. You have to understand, the people who sit in those trials are old, useless gits. They wouldn't know a hippogriff from a griffin. They're not field workers, they're paper-pushers. If the world was right, I would be the judge of these things, but my opinion is often disregarded, when they even ask for it. When a kid's been injured, they won't look further into the matter. The beast is always at fault, or the beast's owner if it isn't sentient."

"Why would they ask for your opinion? You're just the executioner," Sirius said with a small frown.

"The executioner?" Evey repeated incredulously. "That's the tiniest part of his job! Sirius, he takes care of every single matter that has to do with magical creatures in all of Scotland. He's the one they send when there's a rabid werewolf on the loose, or when a horde of forest trolls decides to go down to the nearest Muggle village for breakfast. He also finds injured beasts and makes sure they're given proper care, and he checks the wards that protect the reservations every week. And that's just part of the job. He's on duty at all times."

They were all staring at her in astonishment. "How do you know all that?" Walden asked in a puzzled voice. "I never told you about my job."

"Because I wanted to work with you," she told him sheepishly. "Well, I still do," she amended quickly. "We had career counselling during the fifth year and that's the only thing Professor Snape could come up with." She smiled. "I told him I wanted to work with magical creatures, but I didn't want a boring job. I wanted something that allowed me to use everything I learned in class and more, including Potions and Herbology, and Transfiguration. I wanted daily adventures."

" _Snape_ told you to work with him? To become… what is it even called? Couldn't he come up with an even riskier profession?" Sirius asked with a grimace of distaste.

"The official title is Warden of the North, or Warden of Scotland. And it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Tony said with a small chuckle. "You've seen him without his shirt, haven't you?" he asked her wryly.

"They're just scars. He's alive, isn't he?" she said dismissively.

Walden was still staring at her. "It _is_ dangerous, lass. More than you know."

"Well, _I_ am dangerous," she told him sweetly. "More than you know," she added with a grin. "Besides, you're less likely to get hurt if there are two of us."

Walden shook his head. "I don't take on apprentices."

"I know, they told me that at the Ministry. But it looks like fate brought us together."

Walden let out a mirthless bark of a laugh. "Fate. Right. I'm sorry, V, but you'll have to find something else."

She was about to respond when Mrs Weasley walked in. "Morning, everyone," she called around briskly. As usual, she was carrying bags of food. She dropped them all in the kitchen and sat down with them for a moment. Addressing Evey, she asked if everything was alright.

"Absolutely fine," Evey replied truthfully.

"We were just discussing Evey's career options," Tony said with a sly smile. She turned to glare at him.

"Indeed? What did you have in mind, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked her curiously.

"She wants to work with Walden," Tony answered before Evey could open her mouth. Merlin, he could be infuriating.

"Oh, is that so?" Mrs Weasley's mouth was a tight line. "I don't think that's much of a career." Walden frowned but said nothing. "But if you want to work with magical beasts, there are many alternatives. Arthur knows someone at the Ministry – Nathaniel Bayle – who works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I'm sure he can help you find something that's more…" She trailed off, at a loss for the proper word.

"Suitable?" Evey supplied grimly.

Mrs Weasley nodded. "Indeed. Arthur could ask him to–"

"Molly?" Tony interrupted her almost timidly. She scowled at him. "Bayle's a partisan of Voldemort," he said softly.

"Of course he's not! He's a gentleman and he's involved with many charity associations," she said indignantly.

Tony sighed. "I know. He was always good at deceiving the rest of the world. But you probably remember Rookwood…" Mrs Weasley nodded sharply. "Yeah. He was quite charming too, wasn't he? They're not all as obvious as Bellatrix, you know."

"He's not just that, either," Walden went on. "There were accusations of statutory rape made against him a few years ago–"

"I never heard about any such accusations," Mrs Weasley told him fiercely.

"Few people did. Yaxley and Malfoy stifled the rumours and the case was dropped altogether before it even went to trial," Walden explained quietly.

Mrs Weasley was speechless for a moment but she recovered quickly. She turned to Evey once more. "In any case, dear, I believe you should do some research on universities before making a final decision. To consider your options."

Evey nodded meekly. "I will." She would not, but she didn't want to start a fight. Walden threw her a shrewd look. Of course, she would have to convince him before doing anything else.


	14. What doesn't kill you makes you stranger

Walden woke up with a start when he heard Evey grunt in pain. He sat up on his bed. "V? You alright, kid?"

She mumbled something he didn't quite catch, but he heard her cry out an instant later. He stood up, lit up his wand and made his way to her bed. She lay curled up in a ball, as she often did, and she had her back to him. She was holding her arm. "It fucking hurts," he heard her mumble.

He sat down next to her. "Let me see," he commanded. When she didn't comply, he placed his wand on the bed and took her hand off her arm, and this time she whimpered. What the hell was wrong with her?

He saw what it was right away. Her left arm was covered with scratches, deep gashes that bled profusely. "Shit!" he muttered. He pointed his wand at the wounds, ready to send a basic healing spell before alerting the others, but he noticed that the injuries were closing already. A moment later, they were gone entirely. He stared at her bloody arm in shock.

She tried to turn toward him, but groaned again, clutching her shoulder. Blood oozed through her pyjama top. "Make it stop," she told him pleadingly.

Tony banged the door open. "What's going on? I heard–" He saw Evey, pale and covered in blood and sweat. "Bloody hell!"

"I don't know," Walden said through clenched teeth. "Help me, will you?" They made her sit up and Walden opened up her top cautiously.

There was a huge bite mark on her shoulder. As they watched, the wound receded, leaving only smooth skin under the blood. They glanced at each other, but Tony seemed as clueless as he was. Evey opened her eyes slowly. She was panting hard. "What's happening?"

"Don't know, lass. Keep still, alright? You're going to be fine." He had no idea if that was true or not, but what else could he tell her? "Let's just–" At that moment, her hands flew to her face, and she doubled over, apparently overcome with pain.

"My eyes!" Blood was spurting from beneath her fingers and for an instant, Walden stood frozen, not daring to remove her hands. It was Tony who moved forward. "No, don't! They'll fall off!" she cried. "Oh Merlin please help me." The last words were an almost inaudible whisper.

"V, we have to… Trust me, alright? Let me see," Tony murmured soothingly. He took her hands away slowly.

Her eyes were closed, but apparently still there, in their appointed location. There were more scratches around them, however. Blood ran down her face and dripped from her chin onto her pyjama bottoms. Once more, the wounds closed as they stared at her helplessly.

Walden swallowed audibly. "Open your eyes." She shook her head at first, but complied eventually, with some gentle coercing from Tony. Her eyes looked perfectly normal. Tears were spilling down, washing some of the blood away. "Can you see?" he asked her softly. She nodded. "Good."

He expected another bout but, after a moment, he decided that it was over – whatever 'it' was. "Let's get you cleaned up," Tony said. He didn't wait for a reply, but instead gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. "Get her some fresh clothes," he told Walden.

Shaking his head to dispel the whirlwind of thoughts that suddenly assaulted his mind, Walden fetched clean pyjamas from the wardrobe and joined them in the bathroom. Tony had removed her top completely and was wiping the blood with a wet towel, but Evey didn't seem to notice. She kept pressing her fingers lightly against her eyelids, as if to make sure her eyes were still there. She was trembling.

"Should we tell Black?" Tony asked him in a low voice.

Walden shook his head. "No fucking clue." He paused to consider. "I've seen some weird shit, Tony, but never anything quite like that. Hell, I can't even think of a rational explanation."

"Me neither. But that was to be expected. I'm more surprised that _you_ can't come up with something. I mean, she looks as though Greyback came back for her, but that hardly qualifies as rational. And besides… the way she healed…" He glanced up at Walden. Transformed werewolves, as well as vampires, both regenerated rapidly – or instantly, in Tony's case – but the girl wasn't either of those things. How much had Greyback really contaminated her, when he bit her? They hadn't discovered anything new regarding her condition since that first night in July. In any event, it didn't explain wounds that appeared out of nowhere.

"I really thought they were gone," Evey murmured, hands on her face. She removed them slowly, reluctantly. "I don't know what happened. I was dreaming, I think – I don't remember what about –and all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain in my arm." She placed a hand on a specific spot. "Then I heard you speak, so I knew I was awake, but a second later there was more pain in my shoulder and it kept coming. I think my leg was touched, too." She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and looked at them both in turn. "What the fuck is wrong with me? Do you think it's connected with Greyback, somehow?"

"I don't know, V," Tony said. "Look, maybe you should talk to Dumbledore. He's more likely to–"

She was shaking her head. "No," she said firmly. She was obviously recuperating from her ordeal. Abruptly, she seemed to realise that she was half-naked and covered herself with her hands, blushing. "I can finish myself, thank you," she muttered as she grabbed the towel from Tony's hands. They retreated after telling her to call out if it happened again.

"Should we tell Dumbledore anyway?" Tony asked when the door was closed.

Walden sat down on his bed. "I don't think we should, no. She wouldn't like it and I don't know what he can do about it, anyway."

"I don't like it. I mean, if something happens to her, and they realise we knew and didn't tell them…" Tony trailed off, looking nervous.

"We do nothing for now," Walden said. "And if it happens again, we tell Sirius first, before alerting the whole Order." Hopefully, it would never happen again. He didn't like the thought of Evey being hurt. He didn't like it at all.

* * *

"Bite me," Evey told him gravely the following morning.

Tony stared at her. "Um… I beg your pardon?" He must have misheard her.

"And I thought your hearing was superior to mine…" she said with a smirk. "Will you please bite me?" she repeated.

Was she bloody mad? "I can't do that! Why would I… Why?" he asked again, frowning.

"I want to see if it heals," she explained impassively.

"But V… of course it will heal. With my saliva, it will heal right away." She had to know that, so why was she insisting?

"I'm not sure it will, actually," she said matter-of-factly.

"I…" He turned to the bathroom. Walden was taking a shower. He had to stall until he came out. "If you want to experiment on your regenerative abilities, why not start with a tiny prick with a needle or something?"

"I already tried that. I used one of your razorblades. The incisions healed like the other wounds from last night." He gaped at her, speechless. She used a _razorblade_? "Don't give me that look," she told him impatiently. "I wasn't trying to cut my veins open or anything, I just had to know." She showed him her arm. "See? Nothing."

There were no marks, but she couldn't have known that _before_ butchering herself. She was out of control. He was about to tell her that she should take it easy when Walden came out of the bathroom. He was shirtless, as usual. He only bothered when he knew Molly was coming. They were lucky he even wore pants. Although, admittedly, Evey didn't appear to mind, far from it. She smiled at his brother. "Wal, please ask him to bite me."

Walden cocked his head slightly. He first looked as though he was wondering if he'd heard correctly but a moment later he was nodding. "Good idea," he said, turning to Tony. "Bite her."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he asked Walden incredulously.

"It makes sense," his brother said quietly. "Werewolves regenerate rapidly unless they're bitten by a vampire. I should have thought of that before."

"And what if it _doesn't_ heal properly? Molly will cut me to pieces if she sees puncture marks on her!"

"Tony, I'm not asking you to tear my neck open," Evey said exasperatedly. "You can do it on my wrist. I always wear bracelets anyway. No one will notice."

He gazed at them both in turn. Damn, they were being serious. Merlin's warty buttocks! "You're crazy," he whispered.

"Obviously," Evey replied with a grin. She was already removing her jewellery. "Here," she said when she was done, presenting him with her left wrist.

He groaned. "If Molly finds out…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Evey exclaimed. "You're _undead_ , Tony. Get a grip. What is she going to do, force you to wash the dishes for eternity?" she asked with a sneer.

"You're underestimating her, very much so," Tony mumbled.

Sighing, he took her wrist. He gave her one last questioning glance, but she simply nodded. "Make sure you draw blood." Bracing himself, he sank his canines into her flesh, as gently as he could. He heard her gasp softly. The saliva wasn't working as it should, he could tell right away. She shouldn't have felt the prick at all, for one thing. He moved away as soon as he tasted her blood. It tasted incredible, he noted idly. It was nothing like Walden's, which simply tasted like… well, blood. Evey's was a subtle blend of dark rum, coffee and… He shook his head. The taste of her blood should be the last thing on his mind at the moment.

They all stared at the wound for a minute and Tony tried to will it to disappear, but it remained stubbornly in place. "Shit," he grumbled eventually. "I told you it was a bad idea."

Walden took her wrist delicately and studied it for a long moment. "Yep, looks like you're officially part werewolf, kid."


	15. Curiouser and curiouser

_Part werewolf_. "What does it mean, concretely?" Evey asked Walden.

"I don't know exactly. You never turned into a large wolf and you don't feel the urge to howl at the moon, as far as I know, so you're not a true werewolf, but you've developed certain… traits, apparently. You eat more bacon than Sirius and me together and I've seen you eat bits of it raw, when you're cooking." She blushed slightly at that. "But it still doesn't explain the wounds from last night." It didn't explain much of anything, actually, but that thought wasn't particularly helpful. She was a puzzle and that was the only thing he knew for certain.

"Well, that's progress. You know, when this is all over and we're allowed out into the world, maybe we should write a paper about it," she told him jokingly. "We'd be famous."

"I thought you didn't want to be famous," he said. Otherwise why refuse to let anyone else know?

"I don't want people to think I'm a freak," she corrected him. "Not the same thing."

"You're not a freak," he murmured. "You're just something new, and people always fear what they don't know, what they don't understand. You're a miracle, is what you are." Her blush intensified, for some reason.

"That's all well and good, but shouldn't we at least _try_ to heal the wound?" Tony asked nervously. The puncture marks were shallow and very little blood had been shed. It didn't seem to be infected in any way – werewolves were known to have severe reactions to vampire saliva when they came in contact with it, and vice versa. It was rarely fatal, but it happened, occasionally.

"I doubt it'll work," Walden told him, but he wanted to see what would occur. He picked up his wand. " _Vulnera Sanentur_." As expected, nothing happened.

"So, what, it'll just stay like that forever?" Tony asked.

"Not necessarily," Walden answered. "Maybe it will heal the regular way. It's hard to tell."

"Bloody great," Tony muttered.

Evey patted him on the back. "Don't worry, I'll live. And thank you," she added softly. "I know you dislike biting people. I just had to know."

"I _hate_ biting people," he said fiercely. "I mean, if Ancients are so great, why can't they feed off animals, like regular vampires? Such a stupid rule," he grumbled.

"It's not a rule, it's a fact. Animal blood won't quench your thirst," Walden said.

"I know that," Tony said through clenched teeth. "I just wish I didn't have to feed off _you_. Who knows what it's doing to you, what might happen in the long run?"

Walden shrugged. "It won't turn me into a vampire, if that's what you're afraid of. Doesn't work like that. It's only once a week, anyway," he said dismissively. According to Jeanne, he didn't need to feed that often – once a month was more than enough – but Walden felt more at ease knowing his brother was properly fed. Hungry vampires were said to be quite frightening and Tony was not a mundane vampire. Of course, Tony still had to drink animal blood to keep up appearances; the others didn't know he was anything more than a regular vampire.

Tony grumbled something inaudible. "What do we do now?" he asked more intelligibly.

"We wait. There's nothing else we can do," Walden replied quietly.

* * *

She woke up with the sun, feeling incredibly energised, as was usual nowadays. Walden was still asleep and Tony wasn't in the room. She made her way to the bathroom as noiselessly as she could. When she was done washing up, she removed the bandage that covered her wrist.

The lesion was gone. It hadn't even left a scar. That should make Tony happy. He'd kept repeating that she should make sure the bandage wasn't obvious, so that Sirius would have no cause to ask what had happened.

When she opened the door, she saw that Walden was awake, although he was still in his bed. He turned his head to her. "Did you check the puncture mark?"

She nodded. "It's gone," she said. She sat down beside him and showed off her wrist. "Smooth as a baby's bottom." He traced the spot where the wound had been delicately. She had to hold back a shiver.

"You get weirder by the day," he told her teasingly.

"Hey," she protested with mock indignation. "What happened to me being a miracle?"

"Well, you're a weird miracle," he said with a grin. He didn't smile very often, but when he did… _Damn, he's so beautiful_ , she thought longingly. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks and stood up hastily to hide her face. She pretended to get something from the wardrobe to cover the whole thing.

"Evey?" he asked from behind her. There was something odd in his tone.

She turned with a frown. "What?"

He was staring at her, eyes wide. What was wrong with him? He didn't answer right away. "You're… um… V, you're invisible," he said eventually.

She looked down at herself. She really was. "Holy cow," she whispered.

"I take back what I said," Walden said wonderingly. "You get weirder by the fucking _minute_."

She grinned at him then realised he couldn't see it. "Er… Wal? How do I get visible once more?" How had she even turned invisible in the first place? She had simply wished it, as far as she could tell, anxious as she was to conceal her blush. She tried to focus on being visible and was relieved to see her arms reappear.

"Ah, there you are," he said with a smile.

"Do you think it has something to do with Tony? I mean, that's probably the case, isn't it?" That was the only possible explanation, as far as she could think.

"Very likely," Walden agreed. He whistled through his teeth. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

"That I'm an Ancient?" No, she couldn't be. Could she?

"I don't know about that, but don't you see? You've got both werewolf and vampire traits. That's… well, I don't like to use the word 'impossible' in regard to you anymore, but you get the idea," he said with a trace of reverence. "It's amazing. It's crazy. I can't believe it," he said, shaking his head.

Tony opened the door and frowned at them when he saw the look on their faces. "What's going on?"

She showed him her wrist and his scowl deepened. "It's gone," he said blankly.

"You have very keen eyes, master vampire," she told him with a smirk. "But that's not the best part," she added genially. Concentrating, she prayed that it wasn't a one-time occurrence and willed herself invisible. It worked.

Tony stared at her in astonishment. "How… What did you… No fucking way!"

She reappeared once more and grinned at him. "This is awesome. I love it. Thank you so much."

"I didn't… Damn, V. What the hell _are_ you?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to keep doing strange experiments. Do you think it means I'm an Ancient?" she asked him eagerly.

"I don't… think so?" He paused, considering. "Do you have fangs?"

She felt her teeth and showed him her canines. "Nope. But yours only appear when you want them to, right?" She tried to will her teeth to grow, but nothing happened.

"I think fangs are a basic requirement for being a vampire, so we can rule that out. Unless… Do you crave blood?"

"Er… no. Just food. I'm starving."

Tony looked around the room and pointed at a glass of water on Walden's bedside table. "Drink that," he said.

She raised an eyebrow questioningly, but he simply gestured for her to proceed. She drank some of the water, and they both gazed at her intently for a good minute. "What is that supposed to do? It's not holy water, you know," she said matter-of-factly.

Tony snorted. "That wouldn't change anything. Religious paraphernalia has no effect on us. That's just balderdash they made up to taunt Muggles. But that wasn't what I wanted to see. If _I_ drink water – even plain water – I get sick. It's the same with all aliments and drinks, actually. I just get cramps and start puking blood and… well, you get the idea. It's quite messy."

Evey felt herself blanch. Merlin, if she'd been forced to give up food… What kind of life would that be? "That's terrible," she told him earnestly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." She had assumed he didn't eat because he had no taste for regular food anymore.

"Tell me about it," he said glumly. "Anyway. I think we can all agree that you're not a vampire. I don't see how that would be possible, in any case. You're alive, for one thing and you're already partly a werewolf." He trailed off as if in sudden realisation. "Wait. That means you're a werewolf and vampire hybrid! How is that even… Oh no, that's right. We're not using that word anymore."

They were all silent for a moment. "Maybe I should ask Jeanne what she thinks?" Tony asked eventually.

"And how are you going to do that? She can't come here, the place is protected. And you can't get out," Walden pointed out.

"Actually, she could come. She was at your house, remember?" Tony said.

"Right. I thought that was because… um, I don't know. Never gave it proper thought."

"Wait a second. Vampires can see places that are protected by a Fidelius Charm?" Evey asked incredulously.

"Only Ancients, as far as I know. Otherwise we would know about it, I suppose."

"But that's… that means they could come here uninvited, at any time?"

"Well, no, that's the thing. They could see the house, sure, but they couldn't get in without being invited in. Although…" He paused with a frown. "Yeah, perhaps some of us could get in, those with the mind control ability."

"Mind control? Ancients can do that, too?" Evey asked with a scowl. "Can _you_ do it?"

"Nah, I got the invisibility thing. There are… extra abilities, but we only get one, you see. It depends on your maker," he explained. "Although the Bloodmother has all of them, of course," he added.

"What are the other abilities?" she asked him curiously.

"There are four. The other two are shape shifting and flying. Shape shifters can only take animal forms. Non-magical animals. Again, excepting the Mother. She can turn into other people, too, I think. The mind control works on people and animals both, but not on us."

"That's so cool!" Evey exclaimed. How had she not known this before? "You really need to tell me who the others are," she said almost pleadingly. She had asked about a thousand times before, but he claimed it would be a breach in secrecy. A worse one than he'd already committed, anyway. Apparently, he shouldn't even use his maker's name, but her nickname instead. He kept forgetting, however.

She was met with refusal once again. "Sorry, kid. I really can't," he said ruefully. What was worse, she could tell he was dying to spill it all out. She supposed she had to consider herself lucky that she knew as much as she did.

"Right. Never mind. Can people resist the mind control? Like the Imperius Curse?"

"The Ripper said it was pretty efficient. She's never met anyone who could resist it."

"The Ripper?" Evey repeated. "I've never heard of that one. Is she a new one?"

"No, she's not new, but she was the last one to be turned before me."

"So she's… we're not talking about _Jack_ the Ripper, are we?"

"V, I _cannot_ tell you," he said with some frustration. "My, but you're persistent."

"You only notice that now?" Walden asked with a smirk. Evey narrowed her eyes at him and he grinned at her. _Damn, he has to stop doing that_ , she thought as she felt her cheeks heat up slightly.

"Anyway, back to the initial topic. What happens now?" Tony glanced at them both in turn.

"Nothing," Walden replied with a shrug. "She's got new superpowers, but we don't know much more than we did before."

"Hang on a second," Evey told Tony. "Back to the fact that you can work your way around the Fidelius Charm. That also means you could find Voldemort, if he's hiding in a place protected by the charm," she said conversationally.

"I doubt that's the case," Walden said. "He has other ways of concealing his headquarters. Much darker methods." That was a disappointment.

As they got ready for a new day of doing nothing, she couldn't help but wonder. Could she really be an amalgam of werewolf and vampire? It was so confusing. She had to admit that the invisibility ability was pretty neat, though. The things she could do, when they were finally allowed outside… Also, what would happen if one of the other Ancients bit her? Would she… absorb… their powers, too? She stood daydreaming about it for a long time, until Tony jokingly said that her brain might have been affected after all. Well, for all they knew, it had been.


	16. All I want for Christmas is you

She heard about the attack perpetrated against Mr Weasley almost as soon as it happened, because she was down in the kitchen with the others when Phineas Nigellus warned Sirius. The Weasley siblings came back in a rush to Grimmauld Place moments later, accompanied by Harry. Mrs Weasley appeared some time later and took her family – and Harry; but wasn't he part of the Weasley family, in a way? – to St Mungo, to visit Arthur.

Everything quickly returned to its initial state at the Headquarters after that. Walden and Tony were once more confined in their room and Evey with them, although of her own volition. She greeted George and the others warmly, of course, but that was the extent of her meddling with them. In any case, they certainly had other things on their minds at the moment.

On Christmas Day, however, Mrs Weasley insisted that everyone should gather for lunch, before the others departed for St Mungo to visit Mr Weasley again. Thankfully, he was out of danger and recovering already.

She'd wanted to get gifts for Walden and Tony – she hadn't known the others would be here for the holidays – and was therefore disappointed when Sirius pointed out that they couldn't very well go Christmas shopping like everyone else. To her immense relief, however, Tonks had offered to get her what she needed. The young Auror did not come by the Grimmauld Place very often, but Evey enjoyed talking to her when she did.

She got Tony a hairdryer, more as a joke than as an actual gift – he was incredibly vain about his hair – but he was delighted. She wanted Walden to have something to help with his missing arm, but that wasn't something you could find at the mall. He would need to get a proper magical prosthesis, once they got out of here. In the meantime, she asked Tonks to purchase a bottle of whiskey – a decent Scottish whiskey. It was hardly the perfect gift, but she didn't know what else to get him. He grinned widely when he unwrapped the package and said he would let her have a sip, if she was not too annoying. They were surprised, of course, and they didn't have anything for her, but she didn't mind.

She also found something for Sirius, a disposable camera that he could use when Harry came back, and a photo album. It wasn't much, but he thanked her warmly and she felt some of the gloom that followed him around disperse somewhat. In fact, he was in a better mood than she'd seen him since the kids left in September. She even heard him sing, at some point.

Evey walked into the dining room a little early – Tony was still working on his hair, and Walden preferred to wait for him – and took the opportunity to talk with Professor Lupin, who would escort the Weasleys to St Mungo later. She didn't mention her current situation, but she tried to pass several questions as pure curiosity and it seemed to go unnoticed. During her time at Hogwarts, she had been known for asking odd, sometimes completely off-topic questions. Professor Lupin, as well as Professor Kettleburn and her replacement, Professor Hagrid, must remember her better than most teachers. Her thirst for knowledge in the fields of Care of Magical Creatures and Defence against the Dark Arts was infinite.

Unfortunately what she learned was of little use. She enquired about Greyback, about what the other man knew of him, and was surprised to learn he was responsible for turning Professor Lupin – Remus, he insisted; he wasn't her professor any longer. He didn't know where Greyback was, however, or anything even remotely useful about the older werewolf. Apparently, nobody knew exactly who he was or where he came from. They were interrupted shortly afterward by Sirius, who wanted to take a picture with Remus and Harry together.

Tony and Walden finally came down a few minutes later. Everyone gave them a wide berth, except for Sirius, but Harry's godfather was too busy enjoying himself to pay them any attention. Well, he should enjoy it while he could. The kids would only be here for three weeks.

She noticed that Walden hadn't buttoned up his shirt properly – he'd missed a button – so she turned toward him and redid the buttons in order. He frowned at her when she started then realised what she was doing and sighed softly. "I told you, lass, not in public."

She gave him a wicked grin. "I wouldn't have to, if you learned how to dress, you barbarian."

He smiled back, looking almost apologetic. Well, it wasn't his fault if he had only one arm. Oh, wait, it was, actually. Foolish man.

When she was done, she looked up at him. He was gazing at her, patiently waiting for her to finish. "Thanks," he said quietly.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and she thought maybe this was it, maybe he was going to–

"Finally," Tony said. "I was beginning to think you'd never get around to it."

Walden turned to scowl at him, obviously confused, and Evey gave serious thought to strangling him, even if it would achieve nothing. She glared at him and he grinned. "Well, don't let me keep you. Kiss her already," he told his brother. With that, he walked away to give them a semblance of privacy, she assumed.

Praying to Merlin that she wouldn't blush, she settled her eyes on Walden's once more and raised an eyebrow expectantly. If that wasn't clear enough, she didn't know what else to do. He was too fucking tall; if she wanted to kiss him herself, she would have to half-climb on him first. She almost giggled at the thought.

He was still frowning. "What?" he asked, looking as clueless as before.

Oh well. "Nothing," she told him with a sigh. She patted his right arm slightly before taking a seat at the table.

* * *

Tony caught his brother's eyes as Evey settled down at the table. ' _What the hell?'_ He tried to convey the message as discreetly as he could but saw that one of the twins was eyeing him suspiciously. He made his way to Walden. "What the hell?" he repeated out loud.

"What?" Walden said. "You were kidding, right? She was just kidding."

"Merlin's hairy mole, Wal. Are you blind?" he asked wonderingly, passing a hand through his hair. He realised too late that he shouldn't have done that and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

" _I'm_ not blind," Walden retorted. "Is she?" he asked, indicating his missing arm.

Tony snorted. "Oh please. She couldn't care less about that."

"Well, I bloody well care," Walden told him angrily before stalking away.

He considered going after him but decided he'd better talk to Evey instead. Walden would come back when he'd had time to think. It wouldn't do to press him.

"Hello again," he said as he sat down next to the girl. He gave her a bright smile. He hoped it wasn't his interruption that had caused the kiss _not_ to happen.

"Hey," she replied distractedly. "Please tell me he took it as a joke."

"Nope, he didn't. Especially after I scolded him."

"I only have myself to blame, I suppose," she murmured. "I should have said something earlier. Or never," she added bitterly.

"Earlier, I'd say." He paused, considering. "Although I don't think it's a matter of timing. You've got to put yourself in his shoes, V. To him, you're just a kid."

She turned to glare at him. "I swear, if you call me that once more…" She trailed off, looking annoyed. "Do I _look_ like a fucking kid?" _You certainly don't_ , he thought ruefully. "Do I _sound_ like a kid? Merlin, Tony, I'm more mature than you are."

"I can't argue with that." She was. Then again, most everyone was. "But–"

"So you're telling me that, because I'm young, I'm doomed to date only boys, not men?" She didn't leave him time to respond. "It's not just a crush, burn you. I…" She hesitated. "Never mind," she went on with a shake of her head. She sighed heavily. "I guess I'll have to settle for you, after all."

"Finally! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that?" he told her with a grin. He was rewarded by a small smile. "Do you want me to talk to him?" he asked her more seriously.

"No, I will. After lunch."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind. I'll go see if Molly needs any help in the kitchen. And if she'll take it from me," he added grimly. He stood up and left Evey to her thoughts.

* * *

Walden made his way back to the dining room almost hesitantly. He would like nothing more than to settle in his bed and read, but he couldn't leave things as they were.

He had no idea what had just happened. Had Evey sent any… signals? He could differentiate emotions in most magical creatures, but when it came to reading people, he was as good as blind. And if she had… What was wrong with her? What could she possibly see in him? He was a reclusive, one-armed Death Eater. Former Death Eater, admittedly, but still.

He was not fit to be with her – or anyone else, for that matter. He never had been. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even been with a woman. His job left him little time for these things and he tended to avoid them in any case. Women were trouble.

And she was so bloody young! Merlin, she could be his daughter.

Then again, it was quite possible that Tony was messing with him and had involved Evey in the prank. He wouldn't put it past his brother.

He walked up to her slowly, still unsure what to tell her, and sat down beside her. He took a deep breath. " _Did_ you want me to kiss you?" he asked her uncertainly.

She didn't turn to face him. "I see Tony's not the only Legilimens in the family," she told him wryly.

Alright, she was clearly pissed off. Even he could tell as much. Did she have to be like that, though? He hadn't asked for this. He tried to come up with something clever to say, but failed.

"Yes, Walden, I did want you to kiss me," she stated flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I still do, in fact." She turned her head and settled her eyes on his.

She seemed to be expecting some sort of answer. He cleared his throat. "V…"

"If you're going to enumerate the reasons why you think it's a terrible idea, don't bother. I don't want to hear that," she said, annoyed. She swung her attention back to the table.

They were both silent for a long time. He had to tell her why it was a bad idea, that she could do a lot better than him, whether she wanted to hear it or not. Instead he said, "I wasn't kidding before."

She frowned, still intent on the table. "About what?"

"About not doing that sort of things in public," he told her quietly.

She didn't say anything, and the silence stretched for so long that he began to think she was holding back laughter, that it was a joke after all.

She stood up suddenly. "I forgot something upstairs," she announced to no one in particular. She walked away swiftly, without looking back.

Nobody seemed to be paying him any attention, so after counting to ten, he followed Evey out of the dining room.

* * *

Remus frowned after Macnair as he made his way after Evey, hoping he was misinterpreting the situation. It was hardly his business, but she had been his student and she was clearly vulnerable, after what happened to her family in July. If Macnair was taking advantage of her… Well, in all fairness, vulnerable or not, she looked like she could take care of herself. She had been one of his best students and certainly the most enthusiastic about the Defence against the Dark Arts class – at least in her year. Then again, according to his former colleagues, she'd been enthusiastic about all her classes – including History of Magic; Cuthbert Binns had been more surprised than anyone else.

He hadn't seen her since he had left Hogwarts, a year and a half ago. There was something decidedly odd about her, something he'd never noticed before. A werewolf's senses were only enhanced during the full moon, when they transformed into the cursed beast, but there was something about her scent... He couldn't tell exactly what it was, however, or what it reminded him of, and the more he thought about it, the more it eluded him. It would probably come back to him when he least expected it, as these things usually did.


	17. You're perfect, a pure paragon

They lay in bed for a long time afterward. Tony would come up with something to explain their absence, he was sure. He was on his back and Evey had an arm across his chest. She was idly tracing one of his scars – one he'd received from an Aswang, almost seven years ago. Nasty little creatures.

He couldn't understand what she saw in him. Eventually, he decided he might as well ask her directly. "Why me?"

"You say that as if it's a punishment," she muttered.

"No, that's not what I meant. Hell, you know what I meant."

"Because I like you," she said simply.

"That's not much of an answer," he grumbled. " _Why_ do you like me?"

"Because you're a good person. Because you're tough and brave and vulnerable. And, most importantly, because you're gorgeous." He felt her grin. Gorgeous? Was she being sarcastic? He couldn't tell.

"How can I be tough and vulnerable at the same time? And what makes you think I'm vulnerable, anyway?" That was not a word he would use to describe himself, no more than 'gorgeous' was.

"Because you feel guilty about everything you did when you were a Death Eater and you want nothing more than to make up for it. I mean, you literally cut off your arm for that purpose," she said matter-of-factly. "Guilt and regret make people vulnerable. I should know," she added bitterly. It had to be survivor's guilt, in her case. She had convinced herself that she should have somehow handled Greyback and saved everyone. Damn, even Dumbledore would have had trouble doing that. The werewolf was uncommonly resistant to magic. He'd told her that before, of course, he and Tony both, but she was having none of it. She would heal with time, he supposed. He hoped she would, for her sake. Guilt had a tendency to permeate your mind until you couldn't think of anything else.

"You're also caring, no matter how much you try to conceal it," she went on teasingly. "You only became a Death Eater because of Tony, didn't you?"

He frowned. "What did he tell you?"

"That Rookwood recruited him and that he went over with barely a pause. That you joined him three weeks later because you were afraid he might do something stupid and get himself hurt – or worse," she said.

"Did he also tell you he persuaded the court he had me under the Imperium Curse the whole time, so I wouldn't be prosecuted? He confessed to killing both Gideon and Fabian himself. I didn't even go to trial." That was the sort of things that never failed to prompt a rush of guilt. Of course, they'd never meant to harm Molly's brothers. It had been retribution for helping a prisoner escape the dungeons. Voldemort had ordered them to tag along with the Lestranges and Bellatrix had forced them to deliver the killing blow – one twin each. Neither of them was ever sent for these things, usually. Walden was Voldemort's middle man for all dealings with magical creatures and beings and Tony was the one who came up with new spells and magical artefacts. That was how they had lured his brother in the first place, by telling him he would have all the resources he needed at his disposal and that he could experiment on whatever he fancied as long as he worked on a few projects for them. Often as not, those 'projects' involved discovering new methods of dealing pain and extracting information.

"I did not know that," she said softly.

"You deserve better than me," he told her guilelessly.

"I'm sure I do. But what's better than perfect?" she mused.

"Gorgeous, perfect… what's next? Do you have something to atone for?" he asked her suspiciously.

She chuckled. "Stunning. That's actually the word that came to me when you opened the door, that day."

That day? "What, when we first met?" Now she was taking the piss for sure. He turned to face her.

"I know, it's stupid," she said abashedly. "There's no such thing as love at first sight, blah blah blah. Plus you were being a real twat. But I never really managed to shake off the initial crush. You know, I sometimes feel faint just looking at you smile." She was blushing furiously now, eyes downcast.

She felt _faint_? "You're crazy," he murmured.

"All the best people are," she countered brightly.

That was exactly what Jeanne had told him, almost a year ago. "Fair enough," he said with a small smile. He kissed her. "I think we should keep this to ourselves," he said a moment later. "At least for the time being. What do you think?"

"Are you scared of Mrs Weasley?" she asked slyly. "No, I'm just kidding. You're right. They'll all be gone in a few days, anyway. We'll just let Sirius know after the holidays, maybe."

He nodded. "Did Tony know?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't tell him anything. He must have noticed. I wasn't exactly discreet, you know. It's difficult not to stare at you, sometimes," she said affectionately.

"It's funny, because I thought you liked _him_ , actually," Walden told her.

"Tony?" She laughed. "I like him well enough, but not like that. Although… yeah, maybe when you die, I might consider him."

"I like your ability to project yourself so far into the future," he said wryly.

She grinned. "The fact that he's immortal complicates everything, though. That means he'll retain his good looks forever while mine wither and fade. I don't like that."

"You do realise I'll be forty soon, yes?" he told her more seriously. "My _stunning_ looks won't remain what they are for very long."

"You'll always be good-looking to me," she said dismissively.

She would likely change her mind in a few years, but they might as well enjoy what they had while it lasted. He cast about for another topic of conversation. He had never been good at coming up with conversational subjects, so he settled for the first thing that crossed his mind. "What was the thing that struck you the most about the wizarding world, when you learned that you were a witch?"

"Everything," she replied earnestly. She didn't comment on the completely random question. "To find out that all the stories were true," she went on, "all the fairy tales, the legends – in parts, at least. To realise unicorns were real. And the dinosaurs! I used to be crazy about dinosaurs. I still can't believe they were in fact sentient magical creatures who annihilated themselves in a full-scale war. I was very disappointed about that. When I was a bit older and already a bit more nonchalant about it all… that is to say, when I was a teenager," she said with a grin, "that was when I found out about Tolkien and the fact that the Elves were real." She gazed up at him in wonder. "I still can't quite get my head around it, you know. I mean, it's one thing to know that there are vampires and pixies and another to realise your favourite book in the world is based on facts, even loosely adapted ones. I'm still surprised that they let him publish it, though. Doesn't that work against the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?"

"Nah, too much of it is made up. Who's going to believe it's real, anyway?" he asked with a laugh.

There was a knock on the door. "Are you decent?" Tony called from the hall.

Damn, could he speak any louder? They might not have heard him downstairs. Evey chuckled. "We are most certainly not decent," she called back.

"I come in peace," Tony said, "and I bring an offering of food."

Well, that changed everything. He was starved, and he could hear Evey's stomach growl at the mention of food. They exchanged a look and both went hunting for their clothes.

Evey opened the door a minute later and took a surprised step back when Tony hugged her. "I couldn't imagine a better sister-in-law," he said with a grin when he released her. He turned to Walden and clapped his shoulder. "And you… Aw, Wal, I'm so proud of you. The boy has finally become a man." He pretended to wipe away a tear from his eye. Evey was shaking with laughter.

"You idiot," Walden muttered.

"When are you getting married? I can be your wedding planner. I'll be your best man, of course, so I'll take care of the bachelor party. Don't worry, I already have a few ideas. Personally, I think spring weddings are the best. You should–"

"Fuck's sake, will you shut up?" Walden growled at him.

"Yeah, we're not there yet. And before you ask, no, we're not having kids right now," Evey added with a smirk.

"Alright, fine. But don't you dare hire someone else when you _do_ get married," he warned them.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Evey said sincerely. "Now, I believe you mentioned food…"


	18. Put that thing back where it came from

Tony opened the door without knocking – and without thinking. "Shit," he said, turning around. "Sorry. I forgot." He closed the door and waited impatiently in the hall until Evey let him in. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?" he asked her wryly.

"No, it's fine. We weren't doing anything. Just couldn't be bothered to put on clothes," she replied with a grin. "What was the rush?"

"There's been a mass breakout at Azkaban. Nine Death Eaters escaped… including Bellatrix," Tony announced, glancing at Walden.

"So it begins," his brother said. "Who else?"

"Rodolphus and his brother, Augustus, Mulciber, Selwyn, Travers, Jugson and Gibbon."

"All the Lestranges are out," Walden muttered. "And that piece of shit, Travers… Bloody hell. Do they know how they made it out?"

Tony shook his head. "No, they're clueless, as usual."

"Did Jeanne… Do you think that's why she was in Azkaban, when she met you?" Walden asked with a frown.

He'd considered that already, but how would he know? He hadn't seen her since she'd dropped him home, about a year ago. "Don't know, but I'll be sure to enquire." He certainly hoped not.

"What kind of relation did you have with the other Death Eaters?" Evey asked curiously. "Did you see them often? Did you all live together at your headquarters?"

Tony laughed. " _We_ lived there, alright. We didn't have much choice. Voldemort put some sort of binding spell on us both, when we became reticent to help. If we'd tried to leave the place without his permission, we would have died. At least, that's what he told us."

"The others came and went as they pleased. Voldemort himself was rarely there. We didn't have much contact with the rest of them," Walden explained, "except for a few. Augustus was usually there in the morning, because he was the go-between who relayed Voldemort's orders. He's not so bad, I guess."

"At least not compared to Bellatrix," Tony put in. "That one is bat-shit crazy, and Azkaban didn't have a positive influence on her mental health, as you can imagine. Her husband is only slightly better, because he's more or less sane, but he's a first-class asshole. And Rabastan…" He trailed off, trying to think of a word to describe the younger Lestrange sibling.

"He's like Bellatrix. He enjoys hurting people. Rodolphus is a twat, but he doesn't care about anything. He won't go out of his way to cause trouble. He's dispassionate, but lucid, rational," Walden said. "Rabastan is a rabid dog. He's paranoid, and he cares only about himself. Bellatrix is different, because Voldemort is top-priority to her. She would do anything to see him triumph, no matter the cost to her person."

"Augustus never killed anyone, at least. He was just a spy, and a recruiter." Hell, he'd recruited Tony himself. The man had a way with words and an uncanny ability to make people like him and adhere to his opinions; Voldemort knew that very well and used it to his advantage.

"And the others?" Evey asked. "I don't think I've heard of them. Who's Travers, and why is he a piece of shit?"

"He must have killed more people than all the rest of them combined, except possibly Greyback," Walden said. "He wiped out entire families during the War. And he fucking liked it, the bastard. He was so proud of himself, always bragging about it."

"Oh, who are we kidding," Tony said grimly. "A spy can do as much damage as a cold-blooded murderer, if he's any good. If not for Augustus, they would never have located Fabian and Gideon."

"Did you…" Evey began hesitantly. "You knew Mr and Mrs Weasley before the War, didn't you?" She looked as though she'd wanted to ask that for a while. "I know you killed Mrs Weasley's brothers, but you already knew her before that." It wasn't a question, this time.

"Yes, we knew them," Tony admitted. "After I graduated from Hogwarts, I did two years at the university, and then I was hired at the Ministry, to work in the Department of Magical Equipment Control as an engineer. Molly used to work as a cleaner, back then – that was when she only had three kids. We would take our break together, have some tea and chat for a while. I met Arthur a few weeks later, when he was transferred to another department. We got along great, and for Christmas that year she invited me over to the Burrow. I told her I had to decline, because Walden's dad had just passed and my mum was alone at home. But you know Molly – she insisted that we all joined them. And we did, too."

"I'd never seen anything quite like it," Walden said. "I'd only met them once or twice before, briefly. When we got there, there were so many people that I suspected they used an Extension Charm on the house. There was more food on the table than I eat in a year." He smiled. "Even your mum was stunned," he told Tony.

"And she usually cooked for an army herself, so that speaks volumes. We had a great time. I played with the kids for over two hours – they were as insistent as their mother can be – and Walden spent the day talking cars with Arthur."

"You have a car?" Evey asked Walden with surprise.

"I've got three. And two motorbikes. I don't actually use them, though. It's just… My dad was a bit like Arthur, fascinated by all things Muggle. He was one of the first wizards – Pure-blood wizards, anyway – to own a television. We kept most of his stuff after he died." He shrugged. "He used to let us help him work on the cars, and he taught us both how to drive."

"He always said it might come in handy," Tony said. "Well, I guess it did, since Arthur insisted we teach him. I never used a car anywhere else that on the estate, though."

"Estate?" Evey repeated.

"The domain. The property. Where we used to live, before we got here?" Tony told her. "You know, that ridiculously large manor house with thousands of acres where Walden illegally stores the magical creatures he rescued." Walden glared at him.

Evey gaped at them. "Your garden is a _reservation_?" she asked Walden.

He rolled his eyes. "'Course not. I just have a few beasts there, is all. A hippogriff. A poffle of Puffskeins. A few pixies and fairies. Some Thestrals. A tiny dragon," he muttered.

Evey was laughing now. "You have a dragon at home. A dragon!" She shook her head. "This is amazing. I can't wait to visit."

"And I can't wait to take you there," Walden told her.

"His dad would have liked you, you know," Tony said fondly. "He would have pestered you with questions about Muggles, and he would have told everyone he met his daughter-in-law was Muggle-born as if you were a prize he'd won." He chuckled. "Come to think of it, Mum would have liked you, too. You're practical and sensible, just like her. She couldn't abide foolish people."

Evey was blushing slightly. "I wish I could have met them." She looked up at Tony. "Your mum… was she Russian? I mean, were you born there? You don't have an accent."

"I don't even speak Russian," he admitted. "She immigrated to Edinburgh before I was born, in 1957. I never knew my father. Dolohov was her name, not his. I don't know what happened to him. She said he walked out on her when she told him she was pregnant. All I know is that he was a wizard, so I'm not Muggle-born. Not that it matters," he hastened to add when Evey frowned. "Walden's father hired her when I was five, to take care of Walden and the house, because his wife was ill, and the house elf was already pretty much senile. Walden's mum died two years later, but my mother stayed there. They only got married when we were in our fourth year, though. I'm not sure how long they'd been together by then." He glanced at Walden, but his brother simply shook his head. He didn't know, either. They'd come back to the manor for the summer holidays and Fergus had quietly announced they were to be married in August, with just the four of them to attend the simple ceremony.

"And your mother passed while you were in Azkaban?" Evey asked.

"Four years ago, yes. They never told me, though. High-security prisoners are completely cut off from the outside world. We're not allowed visitors, although there are exceptional cases, I suppose," Tony told her. Bartemius Crouch Sr. and his wife had been granted one visit with their son, after all, but the old man was a prominent Ministry official. That must have helped.

"Which Houses were you in, at Hogwarts?" Evey asked in an obvious attempt at a lighter topic of conversation.

Tony grinned at her. "You'll never guess," he said with a hint of challenge in his tone.

"Let's see. You're an opportunist, that's certain, and you're ambitious, so you might qualify for Slytherin, but that's not quite right, is it?" Tony shrugged, still smiling. There was no way she would get the correct house on the first try. "It must be Hufflepuff, then." He stared at her in astonishment. "I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "It makes sense, you know. You're sociable, out-going and hard-working. Dedicated to your work, back when you had a proper one. Fair-play, when we play games. You're not exactly patient, though," she added with a smirk. "The Sorting Hat must have at least hesitated when he realised how excitable you were."

Tony shook his head. "I don't know. It didn't ask my opinion. It did take a while before announcing Hufflepuff, however." He grinned once more. "And Walden?"

"I'm torn between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," she admitted, glancing at Walden.

"The Hat was torn, too," he told her with a smile. "But it settled for Ravenclaw, eventually."

"A good decision, I'd say." She nodded approvingly. "Now," she went on, "what about me?"

"Slytherin," Tony and Walden said almost at the same time.

Evey laughed. "Aw, thank you. I'm glad it's obvious. It must be Merlin's blood flowing in my veins," she said delightedly.

"Well, talk about opportunistic. You're worse than I am," Tony remarked slyly. "No, really, it couldn't have been anything else," he added with a grin.

"You're Slytherin House personified, and I mean it in the best possible way. I've never seen anyone display so many of its inherent qualities without showing sign of the nastier traits," Walden told her earnestly.

Evey's cheeks flushed at the compliment. That had to be the first time Tony ever witnessed Walden complimenting someone out loud. She certainly had a positive influence on him. _Blimey, he's really in love with her_ , he realised with a start. Falling in love was something Walden rarely allowed himself to do. When Tony looked back on the girls his brother used to date, it wasn't very surprising. Often as not, it had been the Macnairs' renowned wealth that attracted their attention, when it wasn't Walden's Pure-blood status. No wonder he had trust issues.

"Hey," Evey said suddenly, "do you think they'll allow me to get in touch with the rest of my family, when Voldemort has been dealt with?"

"The rest of your family?" Tony repeated with a frown.

"My aunt and uncles, my cousins… I mean, they live far away, and we rarely met, before… before. But still," she went on, "they're all I have left. The last of my kin."

"And they think you're dead?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Well… I guess. The whole world thinks I'm dead. I mean, they probably made up some story, since they're Muggles, something other than 'they were massacred by a rabid werewolf' but the result is the same." Walden put his good arm around her.

"Damn, V, I had no idea. I'm sorry," Tony whispered.

"They're alive, that's what matters," she said resolutely. "They wouldn't understand, anyway."

"I don't see why they wouldn't let you find them when it's all over," Walden told her. "This is just a precaution, because we don't know whether Greyback was after you for a specific reason, or if you were just a random target."

"I know," she said with a sigh, "but I doubt we'll ever find out."


	19. Bratja

_34 years ago_

"You will behave yourself, yes? This is important, Tonya." She had been struggling to find a good place for years. Few people were willing to hire someone with a child, even less so a Russian immigrant, given the current political context. She had imagined taking up studies, so she could find a better position, eventually, but it was far too expensive; she couldn't even afford to hire a baby sitter for her son.

Antonin would be six in a few months; he was a sweet child, full of energy and highly intelligent. She supposed most mothers thought their children intelligent, but Antonin could already read and write and his English was much better than hers. Of course, this was the only language he knew. She had decided against teaching him Russian, so as not to confuse him. It would make his life easier, if he spoke like a native of this country. Even his name was not Russian in origin, although she had named him after her father, Anton.

She'd found a few jobs here and there, earning just enough to live by, but this was a tremendous opportunity. As a person with no magical talents, unlike her son, Irina would never have spotted the job advertisement, but Tonya had picked up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ while she was doing the laundry, and he had found the page with the ads and read it aloud to her. She couldn't see it herself, for the newspaper was enchanted to appear blank to Muggles, as the wizards called people like her, but there was an address, and even a phone number – odd, considering they were advertising in a wizard newspaper. It was a long way, far up north, in the Highlands of Scotland, but the employer specified that priority would be given to women with children.

She had called and received a positive answer, with a request that she present herself as soon as possible. So she had scraped together all the money she had left and gotten them both train tickets. She couldn't afford a taxi, so they had walked the rest of the way – a very long way. It was almost 8 in the evening by the time they found the front gate. The manor house loomed in the distance, a magnificent, well-kept structure so large it could probably house fifty people. She wondered if she would be able to be a housekeeper for so many people. So far, she had only obtained cleaning jobs. She had no real experience as a housekeeper, at least not in a British household. The few potential employers she had met had deemed her accent too pronounced, or they had refused her because of Antonin.

Despite the late hour, she had sounded the bell. She hoped it wouldn't give her future employers a bad first impression. Antonin was yawning, but he was still lucid enough to cover his mouth when he did. Two minutes later, a strange creature met them at the gate. It was small, of a size with her son, and quite ugly. It was wearing a simple cloth around the waist. She put an arm around Antonin, who stood gaping at the odd little being. The gate opened without any prompting.

"Mrs Dolohov?" the creature asked politely, bowing low. Technically, her name was Irina Antonovna Dolohova, but she had put that all behind her when she arrived in the United Kingdom. Too complicated for foreigners. Here, she was just Irina Dolohov.

"Miss," she corrected it swiftly. "I am sorry to call this late, but it was a long walk from the station."

"Walk?" the creature repeated, frowning. "The mistress said nothing of it. I'm certain the master would have come to meet you at the station with the car, if you had mentioned it on the phone."

Even if she had known that her employer had a chauffeur, she would never have asked for a ride. She disliked asking for help. It felt too much like begging.

"Is this all your luggage?" it went on. She had only one suitcase. They did not have much.

She nodded curtly and the little being stepped forward to take it. She clutched it tightly. "I will carry it, thank you," she said.

The creature looked confused, but at length it bowed again. "As you wish." He gestured toward the house. "If you will follow me?"

It was another five minutes before they reached the staircase that led to the front entrance. It truly was a large propriety; there seemed to be woods behind the main building, and the garden spanned too far on either side of her to make out in the gloom. She wondered how many gardeners they must have, to keep it all so well-maintained. There was a marble fountain near the staircase, bathed in a soft light that came from no appliance that she could see. It represented a beautiful maiden, apparently clothed in waves. Antonin, curious as ever, his fatigue forgotten as he approached the water, started when tiny, colourful fishes sprang from the fountain.

"Tonya, stay close to me," Irina said, grabbing his hand. The creature did not appear evil, but until she knew exactly what it was, she would rather her son remained by her side.

They ascended the stairs and found themselves before a large, carved door. The entrance was illuminated, like the fountain, by no visible device. The carvings represented mythical animals, as far as she could make out. There was something that looked like a dragon, and possibly a unicorn. The door opened seemingly on its own accord, and the little creature ushered them inside.

An enormous chandelier gave off a bright light in the vast hall. Their guide took them to the right, into what appeared to be the living room. There, a pale, frail-looking woman with brittle auburn hair sat reading a book in a leather chair. She didn't notice the newcomers right away, absorbed in her reading as she was. The creature cleared its throat, and the young woman turned her head to it. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Irina and Antonin.

"Miss Dolohov!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat after carefully setting a bookmark inside her book. "We didn't know to expect you today. I had assumed you would need more time to settle your affairs in London."

"There wasn't much to settle," Irina replied briefly. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you so late, Mrs Macnair. I didn't think it would be so far from the station."

"Oh, did the taxi get lost? It happens sometimes. We're well-hidden, here in the woods, and few people come this way," the lady of the house said apologetically.

"We didn't have money for the taxi," Antonin blurted out. "We walked all the way. It's very pretty around here." Irina stared at him in horror. It wasn't like him to speak out of turn; he must be quite tired indeed.

"You walked all the way from the station?" Mrs Macnair repeated in astonishment.

Irina turned to her, blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid my son is weary from the journey. Please excuse him."

"Oh no, no, _I'm_ sorry. I had no idea. You should have said! We would have come to pick you up at the station." She indicated the couch. "Please, sit down. Caraid, will you make us some tea?" She seemed to be addressing the strange creature. She looked down at Antonin with a smile. "Perhaps you would like something else? There is orange juice, lemonade…"

Antonin revived at this. "Lemonade!"

Mrs Macnair laughed. "Tea and lemonade, then, please, Caraid," she instructed the creature. It bowed deeply and departed.

They all took a seat in the cosy room. It was tastefully decorated; Irina had expected a much more old-fashioned décor, admittedly. These old manor houses usually looked like museums.

"What is your name, dear?" Mrs Macnair asked her son.

"I'm Antonin," he replied. "I'm almost six," he added proudly.

"What a pleasant coincidence!" she said delightedly. "My son will be six soon. I hope you will be good friends. He doesn't have much company, I'm afraid," she went on, addressing Irina. "It's only the four of us here, and Caraid is hardly suited to play with little children – although he tries his best, I'm certain." She put a hand over her mouth, as if suddenly realising something. "Oh, but you must have been surprised at seeing him! I'm terribly sorry. You mentioned being from a Muggle family, with little knowledge of the wizarding world." She raised her hands in a reassuring gesture when Irina made a face. "Do not worry about it. I wouldn't have you come all the way up here if it were a problem. Caraid is a house elf," she explained. "He has served my husband's family for six generations. You are perfectly safe around him; his kind is known to be meek and pacifist."

"I see," Irina said. That didn't tell her much, but it would have to do for now.

"My husband is working in the garage," Mrs Macnair went on, glancing at the clock. "He should be here shortly, to tuck Walden in. My son," she clarified. "He's in the conservatory, studying fireflies, I assume." She chuckled softly. "He is fascinated by all animals, big or small, magical or not. He spends most of his time in the garden. We used to take long walks in the woods, he and I, but I'm afraid my… condition does not permit me that sort of activities nowadays," she said sadly.

Mrs Macnair had not specified what ailed her, but over the phone she had explained that it was untreatable, and that it was the main reason why they needed a governess. She had implied that she had someone to take care of the house and garden – this Caraid, presumably, although Irina had expected that it was in fact several people – but she wanted someone to look after Walden, and to assist her in her daily routine. As Irina would soon realise, Mrs Macnair needed more assistance than she had let on. Indeed, even getting out of bed was becoming increasingly difficult for her.

She had requested someone with children because she was afraid her son was too lonely; as most young wizards of Pure-blood family, he was home-schooled, and there were no other children his age in the village nearby. Moreover, they had no other living kin. Mrs Macnair, an only child, had been orphaned very young, and Mr Macnair had lost his two brothers and his sister during the Great Plague of dragon pox, in the late thirties. His father had passed just before Walden was born, and his aged mother was in a retirement home, not being quite herself most days.

The… house elf was back with their refreshments. It carried a large tray with a tea pot, two cups, a glass and all sorts of biscuits. Antonin grabbed three of those and gulped down his lemonade, despite Irina's reproachful gaze, but Mrs Macnair laughed again.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted, after such an expedition. Antonin, why don't you go find my son, Walden, and he will show you to your bed? He's in the room to your right when you go out of the salon, at the end of the corridor."

Antonin looked at his mother, and Irina nodded. He went off at a run. It amazed her sometimes, all that energy.

"I hope you don't mind if they share a room," Mrs Macnair said, biting her lower lip.

Well, she would have preferred to be consulted, but she would allow it – unless the lady's son proved to be a bad influence on her son, of course.

"I have arranged for you to sleep in the room next to ours. I sometimes wake up at night, from the pain, and I prefer not to disturb my husband's rest – as an Auror, he often works late – so there is a bell for me to call you if I am in need. I hope that is alright with you. I hate to be a bother, but I have difficulty moving about, especially at night, after the effects of the medication wear off…"

"That is quite alright." She was no nurse, but she had been assured that all medical – or magical – treatment would be performed by qualified personnel. There was very little of that, though. Mrs Macnair had to take several pain-relieving draughts every day, but that was all that could be done for her. _What a pity_ , Irina thought. _She's so young._ Well, she couldn't cure Mrs Macnair, but she could make certain that her final days were as pleasant as they could be.

* * *

Antonin stopped in front of the glassed-covered little house – even the door was transparent. He had never seen anything quite like it. Even from where he was, he could see the starry sky. There was another little boy inside, sitting in the middle of the floor, gazing fixedly at something Antonin couldn't distinguish from where he stood. Taking a deep breath to give himself some courage, he opened the door.

The other kid didn't turn as he stepped inside, so Antonin walked up to him quietly, so as not to disturb him. When he paused a few feet away, the boy glanced at him.

"Hi," Antonin said politely. "I'm Antonin. I'm almost six." Whenever he was introduced to someone, they always asked for his age at one point or another in the conversation, so he had taken the habit of giving it away with his name. It was more practical that way. "You're Walden?" he asked hesitantly.

The boy was frowning slightly, but he nodded after a moment, before turning his attention back to… Antonin's eyes opened wide. There was a lizard on the wall, a thick, horned beast as long as his arm, and it _glowed_. And it had wings!

"What is it?" he asked, dumbfounded.

" _Subluceo Draconis,_ " Walden replied. He spoke in a very low voice, and he had a thick accent, but that didn't bother Antonin. Their former neighbour in London, who sometimes watched over Antonin when his mum worked, had the same accent, and Antonin was good at puzzling it out. He did not, however, understand the words. They didn't sound like English at all.

"A Glowing Dragon," Walden clarified. "They're the same genus as the Salamander."

"It's a _dragon_?" Antonin repeated with wonder.

"Uh-huh. You better not touch it, though. It would give you a rash." He pulled up his sleeve and revealed a red patch on his arm. "It doesn't hurt, but it itches like crazy." He proceeded to scratch the rash as he said the words.

"I thought dragons would be bigger than that," Antonin said with some disappointment.

"There are many sorts of dragons," Walden explained. "This one is rather small, but the Hebridean Black can grow up to 30 feet and carry off cattle."

"Damn," Antonin said. He blushed when he realised what he'd said, glancing toward the glass door, half-expecting his mother to come barging in to reprimand him. "Sorry," he muttered, eyes downcast.

Walden shrugged. "My dad cusses all the time. Are you with the new governess?" he asked after a moment of consideration.

"Yeah. I mean, yes," Antonin said. "Mum says we're going to stay here a while. She says she has to look after you and your mum because she's sick."

Walden nodded gravely but made no reply.

"So… can we be friends?" Antonin asked timidly.

"Friends?" Walden was frowning again.

"Well, we're going to see each other a lot, so I thought…" Antonin trailed off, unsure what to say. He'd never seen a boy look as serious as Walden did at that moment.

"If you're going to live here and sleep in my room, we won't be just _friends_ ," Walden said matter-of-factly. "We'll be brothers."


	20. I swore I'd never fall in love again

It seemed this would turn out to be just another tedious night at the Grim Old Place. He chuckled to himself, pleased by his little pun. But truly, the house was aptly named.

His great-great-grandson spent his days and most of his nights moping in the attic, all the more now that the Potter boy was back at Hogwarts. Sirius was a disappointment in many ways, but it was useless to dwell on the matter. There was nothing he could about it now; as a portrait, people rarely paid him any mind, even those who should respect him, even his own kin. Kids these days.

The only other person who remained awake at night was the vampire, Dolohov. Watching him was even worse than watching his descendant. When he was not tinkering with some enchanted heirloom he had likely stolen, he… Well. One had to pass the time somehow, certainly, but Phineas wished he would give some sort of forewarning. Leave a tie on the doorknob, perhaps?

There was something fishy about this one. Never in his life had Phineas heard about a vampire who remained awake during the day, for one thing, and for another he was much too youthful-looking. He had told the Order to be wary, but once again, his wise counselling was being unheeded. The 'vampire' was allowed to come and go as he pleased inside the house, unchecked.

Tonight Dolohov was fiddling with an old clock in the former salon, although Salazar only knew what his true purpose with the object was. Oh, this was turning out to be one these nights indeed. Perhaps he should take a nap, or visit his portrait at Hogwarts?

As he considered this, there was a soft knock on the door. Dolohov stood and opened it. It was the girl, the Mudblood. In his days, her little affair with that Macnair fellow would have been called outrageous. The Macnairs were one of the most ancient Pure-blood families in Great Britain; this one's ancestors must be turning in their graves. Well, his father had been an oddball chap, not unlike Arthur Weasley.

And the girl wasn't even from a high-standing Muggle family, oh no! She had no wealth, no proud name, no… well, no family, in fact. She had nothing; she was no one.

Such a tragic shame. The numbers of Pure-blood wizards and witches were dwindling dramatically as it was.

Phineas sighed and strained his ears toward their conversation. It would pass the time, at the very least.

* * *

Evey sat down on the old sofa and Tony took a seat beside her. She took a deep breath. "When you said that, if I broke his heart, you would tear mine out of my chest…"

"I know how it sounds," he said, "but I won't take that back."

"I wouldn't expect you to," she assured him. "I was just wondering what brought that on. It seems a tad… drastic, but I'm sure there's a good reason behind it."

"Look, if you want to know, ask him, V."

"Oh, come on! You know he won't say anything. He doesn't like to talk about himself. Or he'll be vague and I'll be making up scenarios in my head to fill in the blanks. That's even worse."

"Fine," he interjected. "He just kept falling for the wrong people, you know?" he went on.

"Did he get cheated on?"

"Among other things," he said with a twisted rictus. Would Walden be angry if he told Evey some of it? Probably. But she had to know that this was no laughing matter. "His first girlfriend, Scarlet Carson, she cheated on him. We were in our last year at Hogwarts. It was around Easter, and we were studying hard for our NEWTs. It was the only holiday we ever spent at school, I think. Scarlet was a Ravenclaw, a seventh-year like us. She was the only other person besides Walden who intended to take Runes at the NEWT level, so they spent a lot of time studying together. He never said anything about her and I only talked to her once or twice in passing. She wasn't much to look at, but Walden's not picky." Evey threw him a venomous look. "It's true," he said defensively. "I didn't mean that _you_ weren't much to look at. It's just that Walden always had the ability to see beyond that. An ability I don't possess, I'm afraid. Anyway, by the end of the holidays, they were together. Then at the graduation party – did you attend your graduation party?" he asked her, suddenly curious.

She shook her head. "I'm not a party girl, and I had broken up with George the day before. And Cedric Diggory had just been murdered by a resurrected Voldemort. I really wasn't in the mood," she said wryly.

"Walden didn't want to go to ours either, but Scarlet insisted. I pinched some Firewhiskey from the kitchens and things degenerated quickly after that. Long story short, Scarlet finished the night in someone else's bed, and it wasn't Walden's. It sort of destroyed him, so I tried to cheer him up. Plenty more fish and all that," he added with a bitter smile. "Little did I know that the others would prove to be just as bad."

"Really? That bad?"

"Uh-huh. Except for Shoshana I guess, but that's different." He passed a hand through his raven hair. "You know that he became an apprentice after graduating, right?" Evey nodded. "The former Warden, old Cunningham, he was a nasty drunken piece of shit. Everyone knew it, but he still received requests for apprenticeship every year. It's a prestigious position, regardless of all the downsides. In July Walden started out with twelve others. Most of the apprentices didn't make it through the first month, as usual, so in August it was only Walden and this girl, Shoshana, and for the first time in his life he actually talked to me about a girl, without being prompted, and I was curious, as you can imagine. I met her once during the summer, albeit briefly. Cunningham worked them both hard. She was cute and funny and I was surprised at how comfortable Walden was around her. I never found out whether or not they were dating though. She died two weeks later. Burned alive by a Common Welsh Green. Walden never mentioned her again."

"Merlin," Evey whispered. She had paled visibly. "That's horrible."

"Yeah. He didn't stay an apprentice for very long. Cunningham quickly realised he had finally found the one to replace him. He retired six months later. Walden was the youngest Warden Scotland had ever known. He _is_ good, admittedly. Certainly better than Cunningham ever was." He paused to look Evey in the eyes. "At least now you know why he refuses to take apprentices."

"We'll see about that," she muttered stubbornly. "And after that?" she prompted him.

"After that he worked himself to near exhaustion every single day for two years, while I finished my studies. We rarely saw each other. I really don't think he dated anyone during that time. The next girl was just after his family name. She was from a mixed-blood family, but her mother had great plans for her. She wanted the Macnair name, the wealth, the status. Of course, she never said so plainly. When Walden found out his mother had set them up for that specific purpose he saw red. Felt manipulated, I guess. The girl wasn't so bad, and I suppose they could have had something, but he can't abide dishonesty."

"Did he have some sort of trouble magnet?" Evey asked with a small smile.

"He still does," Tony countered with a grin. "Although so far you're doing alright."

"Thanks. What happened next?"

His face took on a grim expression. "Soon afterward I joined Voldemort and Walden followed. For a while everything was fine, but as you know we ended up being locked up at the headquarters. No girlfriend there for either of us, of course. Then I was arrested."

"You were both arrested," she corrected him. "But you told the court Walden was under your influence the whole time."

Tony scowled at her. No one was supposed to know that. "As you say," he said dismissively. "I had to use every ounce of charm in my possession to pry out the rest, you know, after I got out of Azkaban."

Evey snorted. "Charm? I didn't know that worked on him."

"Right, it doesn't. I got him drunk," he admitted with a falsely sheepish smile. "There was a girl who tried to scam him, then another who was after the Macnair wealth. It was my mum who unmasked her, apparently. She thought the lass was acting strangely. Turned out her family had gone bankrupt. Mm… let's see. Oh, yes. The Voldemort worshipper."

"Seriously?"

"I swear. Walden found out later that she'd already dated several former – presumed – Death Eaters. She was one crazy bitch, as I understand. Not sure how he didn't spot it right away."

"Is that it? Only a handful of girlfriends in twenty years?"

"Believe me, I'm more disappointed than anyone else about it. Before they took me to Azkaban, I told him to live his life for me as well, but I guess he didn't understand that part." He frowned suddenly. "Wait, there was another one, actually, just a few years ago. Amandine or something French like that. She works as a vet for magical creatures, so they were bound to spend a lot of time together after the old vet retired. It was casual, as far as I can make out, but Walden and casual are just not meant to be in the same sentence. He was shocked when he saw she'd sprouted an engagement ring, even more so when she said they could still sleep together until the wedding." He laughed. "He's so adorably innocent. Although after everything that happened with his previous conquests, you'd think he'd be less naïve. Now he's just better at avoiding people, I guess. When he told me about this he drunkenly swore that he would never date anyone ever again," he added with a smirk.

"And you?" she asked.

"Me?" he repeated. "What about me?"

"You must have had several girlfriends before going to prison," she said with an amused smile.

"Obviously. I didn't keep count, though," he replied with a mischievous grin. "And I don't really remember one in particular," he added with a shrug. That was the simple truth. None of the girls he'd dated stood out in his memory. 'Girlfriends' was probably not the right term in any case.

There was another knock on the door. "Yeah, it's alright, we're decent," Tony called out.

Walden walked in, looking half-asleep. "What's going on?" He frowned at Evey. "Something wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep," she explained. "Too much on my mind."

"Were you talking about me?" his brother asked suspiciously.

"Nah, I was just telling her about our adventures in the Forbidden Forest, back when we were at Hogwarts," Tony lied.

Evey chuckled. "Well, I'd love to hear about _that_ sometimes, but we were actually discussing your previous relationships," she told Walden earnestly. "I'm sorry, but when Tony said he would murder me if I broke your heart, I got curious," she added timidly.

Walden turned to him. "You said _what_?"

"Oi, don't put words in my mouth! I never said that," he assured Walden. He cleared his throat. "Look, I know V is nothing like the tramps you used to date. It was just a fair warning."

Walden was silent for a moment. At length he turned to Evey. "I promise you, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured. "By a long shot."

"Likewise," she replied delightedly.

"Now if your curiosity has been satisfied, can we go back to bed?"

* * *

As the improbable couple made its way back upstairs, Phineas noted that the vampire now looked as glum as Sirius. He might as well take a nap; there would be no more entertainment tonight.


	21. Hic sunt dracones

Sirius walked distractedly toward the kitchen after not eating his breakfast and stopped dead at the door. Evey and Macnair were there and they appeared… occupied. He went out silently and sat back down on the seat he'd just vacated in the dining room. Dolohov was there, reading the _Daily Prophet_ with a faint scowl creasing his pale, youthful face. He looked up when Sirius cleared his throat. "Are they…?" he asked, pointing toward the kitchen.

"Yup," the vampire said with a delighted smile.

"That's odd. I was sure you and the girl were..." He trailed off with a shrug. "Never mind."

"Yeah, I know, I'm much better-looking," Dolohov said wryly, "but she seems to have a taste for one-armed men who show off their scar-ridden torsos."

"Right. Anyway, it's none of my business," Sirius said dismissively. "Better him than you, I suppose," he added under his breath. He realised, too late, that the vampire's enhanced sense of hearing must have picked up the comment.

"As you say," he concurred with a nod. "She deserves the very best."

"Well, he's hardly that, but at least he didn't murder anyone I know," Sirius told him crookedly.

Dolohov frowned slightly and let out a noncommittal grunt.

"I don't understand why Macnair joined Voldemort's side in the first place," Sirius went on. "He seems well-adjusted, for a Death Eater and he clearly doesn't see Muggle-borns as inferiors – or anyone else, for that matter." He even managed to be polite to Kreacher, somehow. Then again, the cursed little critter worshipped Macnair as if he were Voldemort himself.

"Neither do I," the vampire muttered darkly. "He only went over because of me, alright? To keep an eye on me. I hoped they would release him when they realised that, but Voldemort quickly figured out that he had a knack for dealing with magical creatures and beings. He sent him to forge alliances with various species of Trolls, with Centaurs and Giants and Merpeople. He even ordered him to approach one of the Great Serpents, the Nāga of the Ganges," he said with a mirthless chuckle.

"The Nāga?" Sirius repeated. He knew little about the Great Serpents – legends and myths were of no interest to him. The very idea that there could be antediluvian dragons of gigantic proportions haunting parts of the world was quite absurd. It seemed that Voldemort had really looked into all sorts of nonsensical drivel to achieve his ultimate goal, to become immortal.

"Now, don't speak the word so disdainfully," Dolohov said chidingly. "There's more truth to the tale than you'd think." He leaned forward slightly. "The Nāga was said to be the only one who still deigns to communicate with humans in any way, although Walden found out that, in living memory and according to the locals, she had made a single appearance in the current century, sometime around 1920. That was when the Serpent apparently swallowed whole a raft that had been crossing the river and caused a flood in the nearby valley, destroying several villages in the process. The village elder Walden talked to said that it happened soon after the dragon massacre of Devkali."

"That's quite a story," Sirius said derisively. Nonsense was what it was. Dragons were sentient, but far from intelligent.

"The elder also claimed that the Nāga understood no language other than Sanskrit. And even if you could speak it, she was as likely to eat you as to talk to you," Dolohov went on animatedly. He clearly enjoyed kiddie tales. "So Wal learned Sanskrit – it took him, what, a week or so – and he simply dove into the water, at the spot where the Serpent had last appeared."

"He learned Sanskrit in a _week_?" Sirius repeated dubiously.

"He's got a gift for that, too. He speaks…" He trailed off in concentration. "…over three dozen human languages, I'd say, and half as many other dialectal tongues employed by magical beasts or beings." He grinned suddenly. "Puts even Dumbledore to shame, doesn't it?" He sounded rather proud. "Anyway," he went on, "the Nāga roused herself from her near-comatose state and agreed to have a little chat." Sirius threw him another sceptical look. "I swear she did. She took him to a cave and they just talked for an hour or so. Walden explained why he'd sought her out, told her about Voldemort and his… request that she joined the war and rallied his side." He was silent for a long moment.

When he didn't speak again, Sirius prompted him. He'd started the story, he might as well finish it. "And? What did she say? I assume she declined?"

"Actually, she ignored that part entirely. She wanted to know what was happening in the rest of the world, if her Serpent mates had manifested themselves and she was curious about Walden. She said he was the first person to ever seek her for purposes other than personal gain, so he explained what I told you, that he was only there because of his idiotic brother," he said wryly. "She said that he'd done the right thing, that family always came first, but that he should – that we both should – get the hell out while we could. Well, I don't think she used those exact words. But the thing was, we couldn't, not then. It was already too late." He shook his head. "It was too late from the moment I told Augustus I'd be happy to join them," he murmured sadly.

Macnair stepped into the dining room a minute later, followed by Evey. The Scotsman went back upstairs but the girl sat beside Dolohov. "What's wrong?" she asked him with obvious concern.

The vampire shook his head. "Nothing," he mumbled. "You're lucky it wasn't Molly who walked in on you," he went on with a sudden grin that revealed very white teeth. Sirius had asked him why his fangs were never showing, but the vampire claimed he could let them down whenever he wanted. That didn't fit what Sirius knew of vampires, but if the man could wander around when the sun was up, there was no telling what was accurate or not in the school books.

Evey started and glanced at Sirius, who shrugged. It really wasn't his business. They were both consenting adults, after all. Although Molly would probably not see it that way.

"Sorry," the girl said apologetically.

He made a dismissive gesture. "Evey," he said in an attempt to change the subject, "a few weeks ago you mentioned that you wanted to work with Macnair." She nodded eagerly. Apparently, she hadn't found a better career path in the myriad university brochures Molly had brought her. "Is that why you wanted to know how to become an Animagus? I remember you asking me about that during your first days here. I suspect it's an ability that would come in handy in such a job."

"Yes, that was the idea," she admitted. "Why? Have you changed your mind about teaching me how to do it?" she asked hopefully.

Dolohov laughed. "Him? Why don't you just ask Walden, dumpling? Well, that is, provided that he agrees to–"

"Wait, wait," Evey interrupted him. "Walden is an Animagus?"

Sirius frowned at the vampire. If that was the case, they hadn't bothered to let the Order know. And on a side note… Had he just called her 'dumpling'? Merlin, exactly what sort of relationship did the three of them have?

Dolohov appeared confused. "Yeah, of course he is. He didn't tell you?" Evey shook her head.

"He didn't tell _us_ , either," Sirius pointed out sharply.

"Well, to be fair, we told Dumbledore. Not our fault if he chose not to let _you_ know," the vampire countered in the same tone.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but Evey was quicker. "Alright, there's no need to make a fuss," she said soothingly. "Is he registered?" she asked Dolohov.

"I doubt it," he told her in a much milder tone. "People who wish to become Animagi are advised against several animals – some are forbidden altogether, I think – and bears are definitely not recommended."

"He can turn into a _bear_?" Sirius repeated incredulously. Becoming an Animagus was complicated enough when you opted for an animal smaller than yourself, but the larger the animal, the more difficult it was.

Evey was staring at Dolohov. Macnair returned at that moment and Evey turned to him. "You can turn into a bear!" Her voice was more high-pitched than usual, probably due to her excitement.

Macnair scowled slightly, then narrowed his eyes in his brother's direction. "It was an honest mistake," Dolohov said quickly. "I thought she knew. You never said it was a secret."

"Please teach me how to be an Animagus," Evey told Macnair almost imploringly.

"It's not that easy. It took me four years to achieve my first complete transformation and Transfiguration was always one of my best subjects."

"Yeah, but you're a _bear_. That's massive. I just want to be a wee fox – well, a vixen. And I aced Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall shed tears of pride when I graduated."

Dolohov snorted. "Right. That sounds just like her."

Evey shot him a warning glare. "Look, at least explain to me how it works. Then I can decide if I want to go through all the trouble or not," she went on as she turned to Macnair once more.

"Merlin, you're stubborn," the large man muttered. "It's just like the apprenticeship, isn't it? You're never going to let this go." It wasn't a question.

"I'll let it go as soon as you agree," she said with a wicked grin.

Macnair rolled his eyes. "Fine. I agree. I'll show you how it works, but not here. Bears don't do well inside houses. It'll have to wait until we're allowed to go back to my place. And if you want to learn, we'll need specific books and we'll need space. As for the job… I don't even know if it's still my job. I've been away for almost a year – took all the days off and extra hours I accumulated over the last twenty years – but without a Warden, there will be chaos. They must have appointed someone else in my stead."

"The Ministry employees I talked to said no one could replace you," Evey explained.

"That was in July," Walden pointed out. "And Troll mating season is approaching rapidly. If the Ministry doesn't find someone soon, it won't be just chaotic, it'll be a massacre. They go absolutely berserk around April."

"Why are we confined here in the first place?" Evey wondered. "You said the manor was heavily warded. Why can't we stay there?"

"I suspect it has less to do with our safety and more to do with keeping an eye on us, piglet," Dolohov told her sweetly.

Obviously. Dumbledore was too trusting by far, but he had at least insisted that the two former Death Eaters must remain here, where they could be watched. They didn't need spies on top of everything else.

"They'll have to let us go at some point though. We're no use here," Evey said. "We could help, if we were allowed outside," she added to Sirius.

"You know you're not one of them, right?" Sirius said. "I'm sure Dumbledore would let _you_ out if you asked and promised to be cautious. Well," he amended, "he wouldn't send you on missions for the Order, but you could go the shopping centre or the movies, I'm sure."

"I'm not going anywhere without them," she retorted matter-of-factly. "And I don't want to go _shopping_. All I'm saying is that you have three assets at your disposal and you're leaving them to waste away in this mouldy place. No offense," she added as an afterthought.

"None taken." Mouldy was a polite euphemism. "Don't you think _I_ want to help, too? That I'm not frustrated at being confined here, in a house that I loathe and that is filled with sad, angry memories? You and Dolohov are here because you're supposed to be dead. I'm sure Voldemort would love to get his hands on Macnair, whom he considers a deserter, and I'm a mass murderer on the run, as far as the world knows." He sighed. "When we decide that those two can be trusted, I suppose you will all be allowed to return to Macnair's place and to go out at your own risk, but I don't expect that will happen anytime soon. Not until we find out what Voldemort is planning, certainly. And don't forget that the Lestranges are out, among others. It's just too dangerous at the moment. Believe me, I hate it as much as you do," he told Evey as she tried to speak, "but we're stuck here for a while, like it or not."


	22. The heart is a strange beast

Tonks was discussing with her cousin when Evey joined them in the dining room. It was early February, and the first time this year that Tonks had managed to clear an hour to visit her cousin. "Tonks! Thank Merlin you're here," the girl exclaimed.

Tonks glanced at her suspiciously. "Alright, what do you need?"

She smiled sheepishly. "A really big favour," she said.

"More gifts?" Evey had been desperate to obtain Christmas presents for her new… friends. She had seemed beyond grateful when Tonks had offered to purchase them. Well, Tonks was always happy to help, especially if it was something as easy as going to the mall. The poor girl must be feeling horrible, stuck here with only a brooding Sirius and two Death Eaters for company.

"Not exactly," Evey said with that same sheepish smile. She took a deep breath. "I need condoms."

Tonks stared at her in shock then turned to Sirius with narrowed eyes. "Oi, don't look at me!" he told her indignantly.

Evey laughed. "Yeah, it's not for him." She pulled out a few Galleons from her pocket. "It's probably best if you buy a large amount right away. At least you won't have to get some every week." She sounded much more pragmatic now that the word was out.

"Oh, money," someone called from the door. It was the vampire, Dolohov. He was grinning at Evey. "More presents for us, darling?" he asked teasingly.

Tonks felt herself blanch as she settled her gaze on Evey once more. No, surely she wasn't… not with _him_! The girl shook her head and let out an amused chuckle when she saw Tonks's face. "Nope, not for him, either. Well, you're running out of possibilities," she told Tonks with a mischievous smile. "A hint: it's not Buckbeak."

Dolohov walked nonchalantly toward them. "Oh, I see what's going on here. It's a shame, kids would make life here less dull, I'm sure."

"I'm only eighteen, Tony," Evey pointed out with faint exasperation.

"Aye, but Walden's not getting any younger," he countered wryly.

Merlin, she was involved with _Macnair_? Granted, he was the only other available man around, but… really? A Death Eater, and one who was twice her age at that? Well, that was hardly fair, coming from her, but Evey was even younger than she was. Tonks turned to Sirius once more. "Did you know?" Golly, did _Molly_ know? Probably not. Tonks would have heard about it by now, if she did.

Sirius shrugged unconcernedly. "So what? At least they have something to pass the time," he said bitterly. Blimey, he was getting worse by the day. She didn't know what she could do to help, however. She couldn't afford to come by the house often; as an Auror, she was on duty most of the time. She knew Evey and Molly were doing their best to keep Tonks's cousin busy – and to make sure he ate properly – but Sirius was being uncooperative to say the least. Of course, she understood _why_ he was like that. To be cooped up here, in a place he loathed, filled with so many terrible memories, after spending over a decade in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit… It had to be frustrating, and she was being polite.

Macnair joined them before Tonks could think of a reply. He took them all in with his peculiar eyes and finally settled on Evey. "Everything alright?" he asked her quietly.

The girl blushed. "Yeah, fine. We were just talking about… Tonks and um… what she's been doing out there." And Tonks had thought no one could be a worse liar than she was.

Macnair cocked his head sideways, as if wondering why she was lying, but apparently decided it was of no importance to him. He sat down at the table and Kreacher popped up an instant later with a tray brimming with food. It smelled delicious and reminded Tonks that she'd only had a cup of tea for breakfast. The house elf directed a nasty glare toward her after setting down the tray but quickly decided she wasn't worth his time. "Does the Master require anything else?" he asked Macnair in a grovelling voice. Tonks frowned. It was one thing that the elf had decided to put Macnair on a pedestal, and another that he called him 'Master'. He still referred to Sirius as his master, but he certainly didn't act as if it were the case.

Macnair glanced at Evey, who shook her head, then at Sirius, who grimaced. He turned to Tonks. "Need anything? Some tea?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I've had some tea already," she told him. She glanced at her watch. She was late already. "I have to go, anyway."

"Good riddance," Kreacher muttered. "The blood traitor has no place in–"

"Thank you, Kreacher, we have everything we need," Macnair interrupted him smoothly. The house elf departed, still grumbling.

Tonks stood up and almost knocked her empty cup in the process, but Sirius caught it. She gave him a grateful smile and assured him that she would come back as soon as she was able. She turned to Evey. "I will get your… things… and bring them as soon as I can," she said in a low voice.

"Thank you," the girl whispered. "I owe you. Well, I already do," she added wistfully. "If there's anything I can help with…" She trailed off; she knew there was nothing she could do, not from here, no more than Sirius could.

Tonks smiled apologetically. "I'm sure Dumbledore will let you know if there's anything," she said gently. Hopefully, it would all be over before anyone had to involve themselves in overly dangerous activities, but she doubted that would be the case. Voldemort's Death Eaters and partisans were clearly working on something, possibly on several projects, but the Order was having difficulties obtaining reliable information, what with the Ministry refusing to acknowledge Voldemort's return. The Aurors who were also members of the Order had to work on the side and be extremely discreet. Dolohov and Macnair had been unable to provide any substantial intelligence; they hadn't been at the cemetery last June, and Macnair had had little contact with other Death Eaters in the years since Voldemort had disappeared. They had, however, been able to confirm or infirm the identities of several suspected Death Eaters or partisans who worked at the Ministry. Tonks and Kingsley had been investigating the matter for months and already managed to have two of those arrested for reasons other than any involvement with Voldemort.

It was not much, but it was something. In the weeks and months to come, she knew, every scrap of information, every achievement, no matter how small, would count.

* * *

"Alright, what was all that about?" Walden asked her when Tonks had departed and Sirius had gone upstairs to sulk.

"She wanted Tonks to get her some condoms," Tony replied slyly before Evey could speak.

She threw him a withering glare but felt herself blush at the same time. Burn him! "Good idea," Walden said simply. "Should have thought of that before."

"I've been thinking about it a lot, actually, but I couldn't just ask Mrs Weasley, could I?" Evey told him. "Remus was there last week but I didn't dare bring it up. The truth is, I don't even know what you people use as birth control."

"Us people?" Tony repeated with a smirk. "No matter how special you might be, pumpkin, you're still a witch. That we know for certain, at least."

She sighed in exasperation. "What I meant – as I'm sure you knew – was that I have no idea what contraceptive methods are used by girls raised in wizarding households."

"There are no spells, but we have some potions," Walden explained. "I think nowadays most witches know about the birth control pill that Muggles use, however. It's probably easier to obtain and cheaper, too."

"Condoms are still the most common method of contraception, though, as far as I know. We're not that backward, you know," Tony put in with a grin.

"Some of you apparently are," she told him sweetly.

"So," Walden broke in before they could start bickering, "did you learn anything interesting from Tonks or was it all about the condoms?"

"She didn't stay very long," Evey said almost defensively. Damn, she should have thought to ask about what was going on. All they had to go by was the _Daily Prophet_ and occasional scraps from Sirius. Remus hadn't told them anything they didn't know and Mrs Weasley either didn't know anything or she wasn't sharing the information with them.

Walden shrugged. "She probably wouldn't have said, anyway."

"She might have," Tony said. "She seems a bit distracted, that one. I wonder how she even became an Auror in the first place."

"Because she's incredibly smart and capable?" Evey said, arching an eyebrow. He seemed to have trouble accepting that women could hold any sort of position that might put them in danger. He still took every opportunity to try to divert her from working with Walden in the future. Honestly, he was worse than Mrs Weasley, sometimes. _Not backward at all_ , she thought wryly.

Tony opened his mouth to argue but Walden raised his hands. "Can you quit squabbling for five minutes?" He looked sternly at them both in turn. "Good thing we're getting condoms, because if kids act anything like you two…"

"Oh no, kids are much worse. But you've already mastered what I call the Molly look, so it shouldn't be a problem. Evey will be the good cop, you be the bad cop and I'll be the amazing godfather. I'll put Sirius to shame. Well, in his present state, it's not much of a feat, admittedly."

"Give him a break," Evey said. "We're all he's got right now, it's no wonder he's down in the dumps, the poor thing."

"To be fair, he's not trying to be anything _but_ depressed. I mean, we're all stuck here, but do you see me moping about?" Tony asked emphatically.

Evey snorted. "If there had been a cheerleading squad in Azkaban, you would have been leading it. The only times you ever grumble is when I have the last word in an argument."

"Which never happens," Tony cut in happily.

She rolled her eyes. "Besides, your whole family's here. Harry is at Hogwarts for another four months, Tonks has been here thrice since I've arrived, and Remus only comes once in a blue moon. Pun intended."

"Merlin, you're hilarious," Tony said flatly. He grinned a second later, however. "Hey, I know what we should do! We should duel. All four of us, you know, to get some practice."

Walden and Evey mulled it over for a moment. "That's actually not a terrible idea," Evey said eventually.

"It might even qualify as a good one," Walden admitted.

"Don't say that! You know how he is. He'll get cocky."

"Too late," Tony announced smugly. He rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Alright, let's do this."


	23. Comfortably numb

Late in April Evey was reclining against Walden as they watched Star Wars for the umpteenth time. Tony was sprawled on the other bed, seemingly transfixed. There was a knock on the door. They all sighed in annoyance. It wasn't that they had to interrupt their viewing – they knew the film by heart – but it seemed that the less they did all day, the less they wanted to do. Practicing with Sirius only kept them occupied for an hour or so every day.

When she saw that Tony remained stubbornly in place, Evey stood up and opened the door. It was George and Fred. Her eyes widened in surprise and they both grinned at her. "Hello there," they greeted her at the same time. How did they manage to be so synchronised? It had always amazed her. It was as though they were using telepathy.

"Hi," she replied uncertainly. "What are you doing here?"

"We just escaped from Hogwarts," Fred explained brightly. He looked incredibly smug; they both did, in fact. "Well, it's not really Hogwarts we were fleeing from so much as the pink-attired toad that now has custody of the place. Did we mention her before?"

Evey laughed. "Yeah, I think you might have, once or twice." They had all complained loudly about Dolores Umbridge, who had overtaken the school. Somehow, she had even managed to become Headmistress.

Walden had joined her by the door. "What's going on? Trouble at Hogwarts again?" They had heard recently that Umbridge had attempted to arrest Dumbledore and Professor Hagrid. Professor McGonagall had been severely injured in the event, but was thankfully recovering. She was one tough cookie. Dumbledore and the Care of Magical Creatures professor had eluded the Ministry officials and were now in hiding, although Evey hadn't seen them at the Headquarters.

"No more than usual," Fred said with a shrug. "But it was becoming unbearable. You wouldn't believe the things she's done, and it's gotten worse since Dumbledore abandoned us."

"He didn't abandon you," Evey told him chidingly. "He didn't have much choice, did he?"

It was George's turn to shrug. "Maybe. But still, we're better out of there."

"But what are you going to do? You won't finish your studies at all?" she asked them with a frown.

"No, Mum, we won't," Fred said teasingly. "But fear not. We have a plan. Well, it's more than a plan. Everything is in order, or near enough. We've been thinking about this for a while, see. We had initially decided to wait until the end of the year, but given the circumstances…" He trailed off with a smile, obviously expecting her to ask what he was talking about.

"Fine, I'll bite," she said exasperatedly.

They both gazed at her solemnly. "We're going to open a joke shop," George told her very seriously.

"In Diagon Alley," Fred added.

Tony had joined them by the door as well. "A joke shop? That's nice," he commented.

"We don't need your approval, bloodsucker," Fred said with a grimace. Tony went back inside without another word.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that," Evey said with a rueful sigh. "But guys… hmm… don't take this the wrong way, but with what money are you going to do that?"

Fred's smile was back in a jiffy. "Oh, don't worry. We've got that part covered."

"We have a secret investor," George whispered mysteriously.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. Keep your secrets. Does your mother know?"

Fred's smile didn't look as steady as before. "We've only just escaped. We thought we'd come by and say hi before we do anything… unpleasant."

She smirked. "I see. This should be fun. I hope you'll consider allowing me to be present and watch. With some popcorn."

George groaned. "We're adults, for Merlin's sake. She can't really do anything, can she? Anyway, everything is ready. We'll be opening soon."

"And we know you're not allowed outside, so we brought you a few samples," Fred said enthusiastically. He picked up the box that lay at his feet. "Here. On the house," he told her with a wink. It overflowed with all sorts of brightly coloured gadgets. Several objects made a noise as she took the box.

"So…" George went on, "that means we're both free from school, at long last. We're entering adult life in earnest. Nothing holding us back now." He looked Evey in the eyes. He wasn't talking about himself and his brother anymore.

"George…" She glanced at Walden, who understood and returned to their bed. She turned back to George. "I'm with him," she said quietly.

The twins both looked stunned. "Macnair? But he's a thousand years old!" George exclaimed. She thought she heard Tony chuckle.

"He's got scars everywhere!" Fred added.

"Not _everywhere_ ," she said mischievously.

"Merlin's purulent boils," George muttered darkly. "Did it have to be _him_? I mean, he's better than the vampire, but still…"

"Yes, it had to be. It was fated," she said dramatically. "Look, I'm sorry, but I thought it was obvious that we weren't getting back together. I'm happy, if it's any consolation," she told him earnestly.

"I guess," George grumbled.

There was an awkward silence. Fred cleared his throat. "Well, we wouldn't want to keep you off each other for too long," he said wryly. "We have much to do," he added with a meaningful glance at his brother.

George nodded. "We should go. Er… don't tell anyone we were here, alright? They must have notified mum already, but we'll talk to her tonight, when we've had time to prepare ourselves psychologically."

"There's no one we could tell, anyway. We haven't seen anyone in two weeks, actually, not since that business with Dumbledore," Evey explained. She didn't mind, personally, but Sirius was becoming gloomier by the day. If anyone could benefit from a visit at a joke shop, it was certainly him.

"We'll see you soon, in any case," Fred said. "They'll have to accept us in the Order, now, and about time."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Evey told him. "The shop should keep you occupied, though. Good luck with that."

When they were gone, Evey settled back on the bed with Walden. "I wish something would happen. Anything. I'm getting restless."

"We all are, cupcake," Tony said. He'd taken to call her pet names since Christmas. He said that, if Walden wasn't going to use any, he would make up for the lack. Walden didn't seem to mind, so she hadn't asked him to stop. It was rather funny, especially when he did it in front of Sirius.

"I don't want to fight, not really, but the inaction, the endless wait, it's killing me," she went on. "Why aren't they making a move? Do you think Umbridge is a Death Eater?" she asked with a frown.

"Nah, I doubt it. A partisan, possibly, but I don't think she's acting on orders. Most likely, she's just a mad bitch," Tony said conversationally.

"Oi, watch your tongue," Walden muttered. How adorable. His daily average of expletives was sky-high, but some words were off-limits, apparently. Or perhaps it was only because she was here. "I agree about Umbridge but just because we haven't heard anything means they're not up to something. Besides, the Order doesn't exactly keep us in the loop."

"I wish they'd let us help, at least," Evey said. "We could spy on people, or things like that."

"I'm sure we'd be great spies, sweetheart, but they don't know we can turn invisible at will. So, unless you'd like to explain to them why you can…" Tony told her sweetly. "Molly won't ever let you out if she thinks there's any chance you might be in danger, anyway." He paused. "I'm afraid you will grow old here. Would you like to be buried in the backyard?"

She sighed in frustration. "It's ridiculous. We're all in danger, whether we participate actively or not. And I want to be cremated, actually," she added casually.

"Alright, alright. Let's not talk about dying just yet," Walden said. "Voldemort won't delay indefinitely. When he's gathered his forces, he will reveal himself publicly and attack the Order in earnest."

"Or he'll come at us in the sneakiest way you could imagine, which would be even worse," Tony muttered.


	24. Your stunned silence is very reassuring

They were having their daily duelling session when Tonks walked into the living room. The room had been cleared of all furniture for that purpose and the mouldy couch had been relocated to another encumbered chamber, somewhere on the third floor. The young woman had selected a bright orange for her pixie haircut that day. She was frowning and had her wand out, Sirius realised. "Everything alright here?" she asked him.

Panting slightly, he made a soothing gesture. "Yeah, we're just practising a bit. Been doing that for some time now."

"Oh," Tonks said uncertainly. "I see." All she probably saw was that Evey was sprawled in a corner, having been hit by a Stunner a few seconds ago.

" _Rennervate_ ," Walden muttered in her direction.

Evey stood up groggily and smiled when she noticed the newcomer. "Wotcher, Tonks."

"I think that'll be all for today," Sirius said. "Do you want some tea?" he asked his cousin.

Tonks nodded and they made their way to the dining room with Evey following on their heels. "Wait there for a minute," the girl told the other men. They complied with a shrug.

Evey sat beside Tonks and Sirius put some water to boil in the kitchen. He was just close enough that he could hear what the girls were discussing. "I hate to bother you again, but…"

"You've run out? _Already_?" Tonks asked, clearly shocked.

"No, no! Well, that is, we'll need more soon, but that's not what I wanted to ask," Evey went on quickly. "See, they have their birthdays soon – they were born a day apart, how cute is that? – and I was wondering if you could go shopping for me again? I'm really sorry to bother you with this, you know. Believe me, I'd much rather go myself. Or send someone who has nothing better to do, at least."

He heard Tonks sigh. "It's fine, Evey. I don't mind. I have to get something for my mum, anyway. Just tell me what you need."

The kettle began to whistle at that moment, so Sirius didn't catch the rest. When he stepped into the dining room a minute later with the tea, Evey had apparently gone upstairs to get some money for Tonks and the former Death Eaters had joined his cousin at the table. They were all talking in low voices. "What's with all the secrecy?" Sirius asked with a faint scowl.

His cousin gave him a small smile. "She was quick enough to mention their birthdays, but she didn't say hers was the next day."

* * *

Walden woke up early on 6th May – his birthday, he remembered a moment later. Blimey, he was _thirty-nine_. In just a year, he would be–

Nope. Better not to think about that.

Evey wasn't in the bed, he realised suddenly. That was odd. She always slept late. As he sat up and looked around the room, he saw that he was alone. _Shit. Please tell me they didn't plan a whole thing to celebrate_ , he thought, feeling uncomfortable. He hated birthday parties, especially those thrown for him without his consent.

He took his time showering, and the usual amount of time to dress himself. He was getting better at it, but he still kept forgetting he only had one arm, sometimes, all the more if he was distracted. He decided to put on a shirt, just in case there were other people downstairs. Before he was done with all the buttons, the door opened slowly. He turned to see Evey walk in. "Hey," she said with a bright smile. She took a few steps to close the distance between them and put her hands on his half-buttoned shirt. "Don't worry," she told him without preamble, "there's no surprise party waiting for you in the dining room." She finished the buttons for him. "Can I at least wish you a happy birthday?"

"Must you?" he grumbled in reply.

She chuckled. "Should I take the present back too, or…?" she asked casually.

"I'm going to be a real twat and say it depends what the present is," he said with a small grin.

"Fair enough. I'll give it to someone else if you don't like it. I know Sirius would love it." She walked back in the hall and picked up a large, plain cardboard box.

"A box! You shouldn't have," he told her wryly as she set it down in front of him.

"You'd better open it," she said mysteriously.

He complied good-naturedly, suddenly curious, then stared at Evey in shock. "What? You don't like it?" she asked worriedly, biting her lower lip. "Tonks's going to kill me."

"No, no, it's fine. It's perfect. I just… It's unexpected." That was a euphemism. In the box, the puppy was utterly quiet and was observing him with keen interest.

Evey crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's cute, right?"

"Newfoundland?"

"Yup. I wasn't sure Tonks could get one, especially on such short notice, but luckily a colleague of hers knew a bloke, who knew another bloke."

Walden picked up the dog cautiously and with some difficulty. She didn't protest but started licking his face the moment she was close enough. "Aw hell. You found my Kryptonite."

Evey laughed. "I know the current environment is not ideal for a dog, but they're supposed to be calm and they don't require too much exercise. We can just walk her around the backyard. Besides, we won't be living here forever."

"Hopefully not."

"And they're great with other animals, including magical creatures, apparently. That's what Sirius said, anyway. I asked him for advice, since I don't know much about dogs."

"Aye, they are. I've often thought about getting one, in truth, but with the job…" He shrugged. "V, this is awesome. You're amazing." He turned to kiss her but she moved away.

"Nope, not right now, thank you," she said amusedly. "What are you going to call her?"

"Nana. Or is that too obvious?" That was the kids' nurse in JM Barrie's Peter Pan. She was often portrayed as a St Bernard, but was originally a Newfoundland.

"It's brilliant. I love it," Evey said with a smile.

"And I love you," he said.

* * *

"Come on! You've finished your breakfast. Can I have my present now?" Tony asked almost pleadingly. If Walden had received a puppy, there was no telling what he might get. His brother was outside now, playing with the dog. Well, the dog _s_. Sirius was with them, although in human form.

"Merlin, you're like a little kid," Evey muttered. "And what makes you think I got you anything?"

Tony laughed. "You couldn't help yourself. Come on!" he said again.

She sighed heavily, but he could see she wanted to smile. Oh, this was going to be good. "Alright, fine." She paused in a clear attempt to sustain the mystery a little while longer. "The thing is," she went on eventually, "I knew exactly what you wanted – or needed – but it was complicated, obviously, given the circumstances."

"The only thing I _need_ is blood, but what I _want_ is a woman. Or several women," he said with a leer. "Preferably several at the same time. But that's probably not what you had in mind."

"That's exactly what I had in mind," she told him deadpan.

Tony frowned at her. "It is?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but as I was saying, bringing anyone here would be a problem." She flashed him a sudden grin. "So you'll have to go to them."

"I don't…" he began to say, confused now.

"You've been cleared to get out of the house," she explained smugly. "Just for today, mind. And you have to be discreet, and avoid places where you might be recognised. So… not Diagon Alley. Or Knockturn Alley."

He stared at her in astonishment. "How the hell did you manage that?"

She shrugged. "Presented all the right arguments. Oh, and you can't feed, either. But I doubt you were going to, anyway."

"Furthest thing on my mind right now," he said dreamily. He could go outside? The whole day? Alone, with no retinue? That was worth a thousand puppies. He stood up and crushed her in a tight hug. "My hero," he whispered. He felt her laugh. "Do I have to be back before midnight?"

She pushed him away with all the might of a sparrow and he released her. "No, Cinderella," she said teasingly, "this time you can stay the night. Just be back before lunch, alright?"

"Of course. Wouldn't want to miss _your_ birthday," he told her. "We have so many things planned," he added with a mischievous grin. She eyed him suspiciously but made no comment. "By the way," he went on as the thought struck him, "how come I can go out and not Sirius?"

"Well, you're supposed to be dead. He's not. He's a criminal on the run and everyone's actively looking for him, thanks to the _Daily Prophet_ ," she explained with a grimace of distaste at the mention of the newspaper. "No one has any reason to think you might be out there. Even if someone recognised you, or thought they did, they would likely assume they're mistaken. But still, be careful. I vouched for you."

"Sucks for him," Tony said sincerely. He glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall. "Is there a specific time for me to leave or…?"

"Go right ahead," she told him brightly. He blew her a kiss before departing.

* * *

Evey sat staring at her present for a long moment without daring to speak. She could tell Walden was anxiously awaiting a reaction, but she simply couldn't think of anything to say. It was another minute before she gathered her wits.

"A ring," she finally managed to articulate. "You got me a ring."

Walden sat down beside her. "It doesn't have to be _that_ sort of ring," he said quickly. "I had no idea what to give you. I'm terrible at this. Tonks suggested jewellery and I took her advice. Although, now that I think about it, she did look doubtful when I told her to purchase a ring. It doesn't have to be a marriage proposal," he repeated earnestly. "It can just be a ring. You like it?" he added nervously.

Of course she liked it. It was gorgeous. It wasn't gaudy at all, a simple, delicate gold band with half a dozen tiny scintillating diamonds incrusted on top. "Wal, it's perfect. I love it, I really do," she assured him. "It's just… look, either you ask me or you don't, but now I don't know what to think, and it's killing me. Do you want to get married?" She looked up at him uncertainly. They had never discussed marriage, not seriously anyway. Tony was always pestering them about it, but it had never occurred to her that Walden might consider it.

"Yes," he replied without missing a beat. "I do. Not here, though. Not now. But when we get out of here…" He placed his hand over hers. "Yes."

She smiled at him. "Then my answer is also yes."

As he leaned forward to kiss her, there was a loud knock. "Oh, for pity's sake," Evey muttered. "He always has the worst possible timing."

Walden nodded in agreement as he stood up to open the door. "You done with that cheap thingy? Because the real present is here," Tony announced cheerfully. He walked up to Evey without waiting for Walden's invitation and handed her a badly gift-wrapped package. "You deserve so much more than that, but it's all I could come up with on such short notice," he told her sincerely.

She frowned up at him, wondering why he was being so serious all of a sudden. She unwrapped it carefully, half-expecting a trick, possibly something that might blow up in her face.

It didn't. It was a photo album, one she recognised right away. It was one of her mother's, she knew, and it was full of pictures of family vacations from when Matt and she were kids. "Thanks, but I'm going to cry now," she warned them just as the tears began to spill from her eyes.

"Yes, I thought you might," Tony said matter-of-factly as he sat down beside her and put an arm around her.

* * *

"So you went by my house?" Evey asked him some time later, when she'd stopped sobbing. Nana was in her lap and Evey was scratching her idly behind the ears. "Dumbledore promised it would be kept as it was until I was able to reclaim it." Tony sat on her right and Walden was on her other side, with his hand on her back.

"Yup. It's been cleaned up, but otherwise I suspect it's just as you left it. They put several wards on the place and some minor Muggle-repellent charms to prevent anyone from entering. As far as the Muggles are concerned, it is to be kept as it is until the 'investigation' is over." Tony patted her shoulder gently. "I wanted to grab more stuff, but I wasn't sure what else to take."

"Don't worry, it's fine. I'm glad I got the album. I just…" She put her face in her hands for a moment. "I can't believe I never thought of this before, but I have no idea what they did with… with the bodies," she said weakly.

"They were cremated," Tony told her softly. "I met one of your former neighbours, see. I wasn't going to linger, but she practically held me down until she had explained everything she knew."

"Yeah, I know the one," Evey said flatly. "The neighbourhood's blabbermouth, Miss Chatwin."

"Uh-huh. Well, she said they were cremated and that the ashes were scattered in the town's cemetery. Since she was there, I asked if she'd seen anyone prowling the area, but she was adamant that there hadn't been anyone near the house since the police left. She seemed quite certain, so I assume she keeps watch," he said disdainfully. He shook his head. He had known it would be an emotional moment, but it was her birthday, for Merlin's sake. He decided to change the subject and pointed to her hand. "Shiny," he commented.

She smiled delightedly. "Oh yes, about that," she said. "We will need a wedding planner after all."

He turned to her, startled, then leaned forward to gaze at his brother. "You _proposed_? You said it was just a birthday present!" he said indignantly.

"Well, it was," Walden said defensively.

"And then it wasn't," Evey added with a grin. "So… do we need to ask Kreacher, or…?"

"Kreacher?" he repeated with mock horror. "Of course I'll do it." He paused. "Actually, there won't be much to do. It's already planned in my head, down to the last painstaking detail. You'll just need to pick a date and invite some people, I suppose. Oh, and you'll require food. I forgot about that." Finally, something practical to do, a real project to focus on. It had been too long.


	25. Such shallow, mortal whims

It had been a long time since she'd been plagued by nightmares, but she'd woken up at 4 after reliving her brother's final moments. What an odd moment to dream about this, just after Walden and she had decided to get married and she was finally allowing herself to be happy.

She had disentangled herself from Walden and left the room as quietly as she could. She joined Tony in the dining room. He looked uncharacteristically mopey. "Hey," she said, "are you alright?"

He grumbled something inaudible in reply.

"I don't remember ever seeing you like that," she went on as she sat down beside him. "Did something happen during your little jaunt outside?" He hadn't talked about it at all, which was rather surprising. Walden said he used to tell him everything – in almost painful detail – about his personal life.

"Not really," he mumbled.

"I take it your dream day didn't go on as planned?" she prodded him. "No voluptuous blonde would have you? Or did she refuse to share you with others?" She couldn't understand why people would want more than one lover at a time, but to each his own, she supposed.

Tony sighed heavily. "It was just 10 when I went out, so I figured it was a little early for that sort of activities. I went over to the estate to check on the house elf and make sure everything was in order. Then I thought I'd go by your place, like I said, and that creepy old lady held me there for almost an hour, until she said she had to meet a friend for lunch. I went shopping for some time after that. I never imagined how much shopping malls could change in fifteen years. I visited every boutique I saw and I cursed myself for not waiting long enough to gather some money before I left in the morning. And I knew you'd be in trouble if I visited Gringotts, so I didn't."

"You could have just come back here to grab some money," she pointed out. "I never said you were forbidden to return until the next day."

He shrugged. "I know, I know. I just didn't want to lose any time outside." He passed a hand through his hair – it seemed he'd been doing that a lot that night; it was quite tousled. "I lost track of time, I guess. Before I knew what was happening there were announcing that the mall would be closing in a few minutes. I thought it was about time I started looking for potential candidates with whom to spend the night." Potential candidates. _Very classy_ , she thought amusedly. "I went to a pub," he went on obliviously. "A nice one. _Très chic_. I sat near the entrance so I could watch people come and go discreetly, but then I saw that girl across the bar from me. She looked annoyed, so I assumed she'd been stood up. I sent her a drink, and she smiled, but the bartender said she declined, because she was expecting someone. So I waited. I don't know why I didn't look for someone else or just go to another place. She was… Hell, I don't know." He shook his head. "An hour later, she was still there, alone, so I offered to buy her another drink, and this time she took it and came to sit with me. We talked for a long time, then she asked me if I'd already eaten. The bloke she was supposed to meet had promised her dinner, so we went to the Italian."

"You said you didn't have any money," Evey said with a frown. "How did you even pay for the drinks? And I thought you couldn't drink or eat, by the way."

"I can't. I just ordered a couple of cheap beers and slowly emptied the glasses with a nonverbal spell. And I… well, I didn't pay. Before we left the pub, I patted myself and pretended to have forgotten my wallet." He glanced at Evey. "I know, it's terrible. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't just steal the money from someone else. That would have been worse. She just laughed, though. She paid for all the drinks, and then she even bought me dinner. She said she was damned if she was going to spend the evening alone. We really hit it off, you see."

"What's her name?" Evey asked curiously.

"Natalie," he replied with a genuine smile. Damn, he looked smitten. What had the woman done to him? "She's a nurse. Works the night shifts." He paused and glanced at her again, as if wondering how much he should tell her. "See, the thing is, I had to come up with a story. I couldn't tell her I was an outlawed vampire who lives in a world of magic," he went on with a smirk. "So I told her I'd just spend a few years working in a research station in Antarctica."

Evey burst out laughing. "And she bought it?" Well, to be fair, his skin tone matched that of someone who'd spent plenty of time in the southernmost continent. All in all, it was a good enough explanation, except for the fact that it was so far-fetched.

"I thought she did. She asked tons of questions, you know, and I always came up with something perfectly coherent. After dinner, however, she said we should have a last drink at her place. That was clear enough," he said matter-of-factly, "but all of a sudden I felt bad about lying to her. She was so nice, you know, and besides she'd just paid for a whole meal that I hadn't even touched. So I came clean – partially, anyway. I told her I'd been in prison." He let out a small laugh. "She said 'Yeah, I figured, but I liked the Antarctica story better. Sounds like you put a lot of work into it. That deserves some reward.' And next thing I know she was kissing me. So we ended up in her tiny flat, but I'll spare you the details. Unless you want to hear them?" he asked her with a leer.

Evey snorted. "Nope. I just don't get why you look so dejected, if you had such an amazing day – and night," she added slyly.

He sobered up at that. "I don't know exactly."

"You can see her again when we're out of here, if that's what's bothering you," she said sympathetically.

"But that's the thing. I can't," he said miserably.

"Why not?" she asked with a frown. "Is there a rule against Ancients dating Muggles?"

"No, there are no rules regarding that at all, except that we're not supposed to tell anyone. But how can I engage in any sort of lasting relationship, knowing they will die and I won't?"

Oh, _that_ was what was bothering him. Being immortal. How ironic, considering it was precisely what Voldemort sought. "Tony," she told him gently, "we're all going to die eventually. You'll just have to get used to it. You can't live your everlasting life without getting attached to anyone for fear of losing them in the end. If you do that, the loneliness will kill you inside. You have to accept that most people you know are mortal. But I'm sure losing them will get easier, with time," she added wisely.

"But how would I explain to them that I don't age, if I can't tell them what I am? And even if I did tell them," he went on, "how can I expect them to be with me, knowing I can't have children, can't have any sort of normal life?"

"That's something you'll have to figure out as it comes, I suspect. Why don't you just ask Jeanne or the others how they handle these things? It must have been difficult for them, too, especially considering they're Muggles, originally."

"I guess you're right," he said reluctantly. "Although I doubt most of them had trouble adjusting. They're a peculiar lot, you know. Some are seriously deranged. I wonder why they were even turned. Jeanne herself is quite crazy. She's not the type to fret over mere mortals – and yes, that's what she calls you people. What most of them call you."

"Well, that's what we are," Evey conceded pragmatically. "Maybe you should focus on those who still see us as humans, not as cattle," she added wryly.

"The older ones tend to be more compassionate. Yeah, I should talk to them, I suppose. It's just… they're a bit intimidating, if I'm being honest. They're so fucking _old_. Thousands of years old. They're like living fragments of history."

"I can imagine. But you're one of them, aren't you? They ought to be nice to you. And at least a few of them share your blood. They're almost… family."

Tony eyed her doubtfully. "Clearly, you haven't met them," he muttered. "But I don't have much choice, do I? Immortals don't exactly grow on trees." He stood up abruptly. "If you're not going back to sleep, can we duel for a while? You can certainly use all the practise you can get," he said with a grin.

She glared at him. She wasn't _that_ bad! He seemed to forget that they were all experienced duellists, while she had never been in an actual fight before in her life. And unfortunately, while she had inherited his ability to turn invisible, her reflexes weren't enhanced as his were – or Greyback's, she amended bitterly. To think she shared some the werewolf's traits made her shudder in disgust, but she entertained a faint hope that it would go away when she killed the beast – and kill him she would.


	26. Another one bites the dust

Evey was glad that nobody argued when she said she was coming along. If the kids were in danger, she wanted to help.

Walden Apparated with her inside the Department of Mysteries – she really ought to learn how to do that, one of these days – and Tony popped up beside them a moment later, although she only knew that because he told them to be careful; he had turned himself invisible so that his former associates wouldn't realise he was alive. Evey herself didn't bother; she wanted Walden to be able to see her, if he needed her. Keeping everyone alive was her priority and if someone recognised her, well, she would deal with the consequences.

The other members of the Order were already there and engaged in combat against Death Eaters. One of them – the only woman, as far as Evey could see – let out a loud curse when she spotted Walden and threw a nasty hex in his direction. That had to be the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. Evey raised a ward in front of them both and shot back a Full Body-Bind Curse at the older witch, which she evaded by stepping aside gracefully. She was obviously a skilled duellist. Walden engaged her a moment later and Evey turned toward the man who stood beside the mad woman. He was thickset and dark-haired and seemed bored to death even as he fought Evey. That would be Rodolphus, Bellatrix's husband.

Just as the Death Eater started to shout the incantation for the Killing Curse, Antonin – Evey assumed it was him – shoved Lestrange aside and grabbed his wand. He snapped it in half and threw the pieces in Rodolphus's face as the older man stared quizzically at Tony's invisible form. They had been told not to kill anyone, but rather to disable and capture as many Death Eaters as possible, so Tony simply Stunned Rodolphus and left him there.

Evey turned to find a new opponent – Walden seemed to have Bellatrix well in hand – but before she could do anything, a terrible pain hit her.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt. The agony left her utterly helpless and she fell to the floor, writhing and screaming.

* * *

It was impossible.

She couldn't be alive. It had to be… her twin, maybe? He sniffed the air. No, it was her, alright. He remembered her scent. He remembered it very well indeed.

As he was still trying to process the information, he suffered a second shock – both literally and figuratively. As a flash of crimson light hit the girl and she collapsed from the agony of the Cruciatus Curse, he felt her pain echo in his own body. He gaped at her in horror before recovering his senses – somewhat.

 _That explains the monthly cramps, at least_ , he thought bitterly. And the bloody vampire bite. How the fuck did she get bitten by a bloodsucker? It had to be an Ancient, too, for Fenrir to still bear the mark. No other wound would leave a scar on him. Most likely, it was the same Ancient who was presently giving the Death Eaters a hard time. It was strange: Fenrir could have sworn he knew that person's scent, but mixed with the overwhelming vampire stench, it was difficult to say exactly who it was. It had to be a recently turned one, however. He knew all the other bloodsuckers' scent like he knew that of his pack members.

The pain stopped abruptly. He saw the girl get back on her feet an instant later – she was stronger that she looked – and start a duel against the person who'd attacked her. Rabastan, as he might have expected. It was one of the man's favourite spells. As a green blaze hurtled toward the girl from another direction, however, it suddenly dawned on him that, if she died… _Zum Donnerwetter!_

Cursing some more under his breath, he ran and crashed into her. They landed hard on the stone floor and the girl's wand flew some distance away. Rabastan gave him a nasty glare, but his attention was diverted as another member of the damned Order engaged him. Remus, Fenrir thought – the Order's poodle.

"What the hell!" she shouted. She tried to disentangle herself from him but he pinned her down under him. Her eyes opened wide when she realised it was him. "You?!" she hissed. "I'll fucking kill you!" She flailed with her one free arm but he quickly caught it.

"If you do that, _Liebchen_ ," he whispered close to her ear, "you kill us both."

"What?" she asked sharply.

"Have you by any chance suffered odd injuries in the past year? Scratches and bites you couldn't quite explain, perhaps?" he asked her sweetly. She stared at him blankly for a second, but then she seemed to understand what he was saying. Her stare turned into an outraged glare. "Don't give me that look, girl. I got period pain, thanks to you," he said with a grimace. _God, the very thought…_ Nobody could ever find out about this.

"Bullshit," she said eventually, but she sounded appalled and reeked of fear and loathing.

With one swift stroke, he opened a gash in his cheek with his fingernail before she could speak again. Sure enough, the same wound appeared on the girl's cheek – and healed a moment later, just like his own, he realised with a start. "What the hell are you?" he growled.

"Well, if we're connected like that, I guess I'm at least part murderous freak," she retorted fiercely. He felt her attempt to throw a Stunner at him – she cast it non-verbally and wandlessly; impressive, for one so young – but of course it had no effect on him.

"How adorable," he told her with a smirk. He looked up suddenly. Macnair was hurrying toward them, wand raised, but Rodolphus sent a Killing Curse at his back. Macnair's mismatched eyes opened wide when the greenish light struck him and he went down without a sound. "Well, there goes Macnair," he muttered. What a shame. He'd had a mind to turn the man for years, but somehow never got around to it. He would have made a decent werewolf.

The girl twisted her head, straining to see behind her, but she was in no position for that. She was struggling more wildly than ever, not even bothering to use magic anymore. Was it the mention of Macnair that prompted the reaction? It didn't matter. More people were noticing them. He had to leave, and fast. "Let me _go_ , you bastard!" she yelled in his ear.

He let out a mirthless, rasping laugh. "Do you really believe I will ever let you out of my sight, little girl?" he murmured softly in response. He straightened up and brought the girl up with him. Just before he Disapparated, he saw her look around frantically until she finally settled on Macnair's corpse. She paled visibly and he received a sudden whiff of hatred, fury, terror and grief all mingled together. On top of that, she now reeked of… guilt? How odd.

Grateful that they didn't share an emotional connection, at least, Fenrir vanished with her just as Bellatrix's exultant whoop resounded in the vast hall.

* * *

 _Finally, some action_ , Sirius thought. He felt better, more alive than he had in years – in over a decade, really. He evaded his cousin's hex easily by feinting to the right and shot back a Stunner in her direction. They'd been at it for an uncommonly long time; duels rarely lasted more than a few minutes, in his experience. She was as capable as he recalled, and as ready to kill as ever. Another flash of green flew over his head just an instant after he ducked to avoid it.

Bellatrix had always been his least favourite cousin, and there had been competition. How he'd hated family gatherings at his parents' place. The nice people were never invited. He'd never even met his younger cousin, Tonks, until last year, and he barely remembered her mother, his aunt Andromeda, who had been banned from her sister's house when Sirius was just a child.

He kept his focus on Bellatrix but couldn't help an occasional glance around the room. Remus was nearby, with Harry; apparently, they were fighting Lucius Malfoy together. It was difficult to put into words how much Harry reminded him of James. The present situation might as well have been initiated by his late best friend – Prongs would have jumped on his broom without a moment's hesitation and come charging with his wand raised, if he'd believed Sirius to be in danger. He had always been the reckless one, no matter what people thought. He couldn't decide if it made him desperately sad or incredibly happy that Harry was the spitting image of James. To Sirius, it was a constant reminder of what he had lost, but it was also Prongs's legacy – and Lily's. They would have been so proud of their son. Even after all this time, their deaths haunted his dreams. He would see that Peter reaped what he had sowed if it was the last thing he did, he had vowed.

He was a little too slow to evade Bellatrix's next offensive jinx entirely and he felt a burning sensation in his left shoulder – thankfully, not his wand arm. His reflexes were not what they had once been, he had to admit. After twelve years in Azkaban, followed by two years spent idly sitting on his arse, it was hardly surprising, although he'd had a little practice duelling his housemates in the past few months. What _was_ surprising was that his cousin seemed just as quick and responsive as she had been before being imprisoned. Her insanity must be keeping her fit.

He thought something had changed in the room; everybody seemed oddly agitated, but he couldn't afford to spare the rest of them a glance. His whole attention was now directed at his despicable cousin.

He ducked yet another attempt from her to subject him to the Cruciatus Curse and laughed at her. " _Come on, you can do better than that!*_ " he taunted her.

His laughter had distracted him and provided Bellatrix with a perfect opportunity. This time, there was nothing he could do to evade the blazing flash of light. It hit him square in the chest.

His eyes widened in shock.

He hadn't realised how close they were to the ancient-looking archway that stood in the middle of the large chamber. He felt himself fall slowly backward, as if in a dream. He caught a final glimpse of his godson and Moony just before the darkness engulfed him. His last thought was of James and of their imminent reunion, at long, long last.


	27. I am a god, you dull creature

They Apparated in the middle of a forest. It was dark – dawn was still hours away, in her estimation – and eerily silent. She couldn't make out a single bird cry or any rustle among the trees. Greyback was still clutching her arm, painfully, and she tried to free herself once more. This time he didn't hold her back and she almost lost her balance as she pulled her arm away. She caught herself at the last moment and shot him a baleful glare, but it was lost on him. He'd pulled out a small notebook from somewhere and was patting his pockets, supposedly to find a pen. She wouldn't get a better opportunity.

She turned herself invisible and ran away from him, as fast as she could. She wished she remembered how she'd Apparated after he attacked her the first time. She had to get back to the Ministry, and fast. Walden couldn't be dead. He must have been Stunned, nothing more. _Merlin, please, let him be alright._

She couldn't have run more than a few hundred feet before he caught her, almost tearing out her arm as he grabbed it. She heard him grunt an instant later, just as the pain hit her. She remained invisible a moment longer but soon decided it was pointless.

" _Dummes Mädchen_ ," he growled as he released her. "I'm a _werewolf_. Do you think I need to see you to hunt you down? The stench of your fear alone could guide me easily through the woods," he said with an unpleasant leer. He frowned at her suddenly. "How did you do that?" he asked, gesturing in her general direction. She didn't reply, but fixed him with a flat stare instead. He muttered something under his breath and took out his notebook once more. He found a pen a moment later and jotted down a few words. He showed her the paper.

It simply read ' _HMP Carchar'_. HMP? What did that stand for? The note burst into flames and Greyback let it drop nonchalantly. Just as she opened her mouth to enquire, she realised that they were no longer surrounded by trees, at least not on all sides. They stood near a building of considerable size – or rather, several small constructions flanking a larger building – and ringed by a towering wall topped with barbed wire. The entrance gates looked imposing but were wide open, and there were little turrets located at regular intervals near the wall – guard towers, she assumed. This was a prison if she'd ever seen one.

Greyback caught her staring. "Welcome to Asgard," he said with a wide grin.

* * *

They made their way to the gates, Greyback walking beside her. At least he wasn't clutching her anymore. There was a sign on one gate that represented a snarling wolf with the inscription ' _Vorsicht_ , _bissiger Wolf_ ' in crimson underneath. _Caution, mean wolf_ , she thought that translated. It was probably a reference to the 'beware the dog' signs that were sometimes found in Muggle households. _How amusing_ , she thought disdainfully.

"Asgard," she repeated after a minute. That was one of Nine Worlds, according to Norse mythology, and the home of the Æsir, the gods. "You think highly of yourself, don't you?" she told him crookedly.

"Why shouldn't I?" he said with a shrug. "I'm Fenrir."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. You're a mythological wolf." He didn't actually believe himself to be _the_ Fenrir, did he? Was he delusional, on top of everything?

"Of course not," he said. "I'm quite real, as you may have noticed," he told her with a very wolfish grin. "I am god-like, however."

So… not delusional, just megalomaniac. It wasn't much better, as far as she was concerned. She shook her head slightly. "Is it only protected by a Fidelius Charm?" she asked him.

He barked a sneering laugh. "Obviously not. We have all the usual Muggle-repellent wards. There are armed guards patrolling the grounds and manning the towers at all times, and there is much darker magic at work as well, thanks to our… patron. Some… things… can walk right through the Fidelius," he said with a disgusted twist of his mouth.

She glanced up sharply at that, surprised that he would know. Then again, maybe he wasn't referring to the Ancients. Other magical beings or beasts – or spirits – might well have the same ability. He frowned at her when he saw her expression. "I knew it," he muttered. "You have a damned vampire on your side, no? Who is he? I sniffed him out, but I didn't recognise the scent under the rotten corpse's foul smell."

She gave him a blank stare, but he just chuckled. "Don't be deterred by the place's grim appearance," he went on a moment later with a gesture that encompassed the whole facility. She couldn't make out most of it in the gloom. "It has all the best modern equipment. Great laundry service, as you'd expect, and the food is better than in an actual prison. The rooms are nice, if a little small." He sounded like a hotel manager welcoming a weary tourist.

 _At least it will be a comfortable cell_ , she thought wryly. She looked around but saw none of the guards he'd mentioned. There were very few lights, except on the pathway that led to the entrance of the main building.

They walked in silence until they reached the largest construction. In front of the solid-looking door, Greyback paused and knocked what Evey assumed was a secret knock to grant them entrance. She made sure to remember it, just in case. It might prove useful in the future.

The door opened to reveal a scrawny man of about sixty, with a scruffy beard and yellow crooked teeth. He gaped at Evey in shock. "Now, now, Gene. It's rude to stare," Greyback said chidingly.

The man seemed to come out of his trance and bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on the floor. He didn't say anything as he scrambled out of their path. They were following a scarcely lit corridor. Despite the gloom, she saw that the inside was more welcoming than the outside. Sections of the walls were painted in bright colours. "That's Eugene," Greyback told her a moment later. "He's a decent lad, when he's sober."

Lad? The man was older than Greyback! And why was he telling her that? She didn't care what his name was. "Do you even know _my_ name?" she asked as the thought suddenly struck her.

He paused in his tracks and turned to gaze down at her. "Now that you mention it, I realise that we haven't been properly introduced," he said brightly. "I'm Fenrir. How do you do?" he said, offering her a hand to shake.

She narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the proffered hand. "You murdered my entire family, and you don't even know my _name_?" she told him indignantly.

He withdrew his hand with a sigh. "I didn't bother to check the name tag on the mailbox, I'm afraid. I didn't care, you understand," he said matter-of-factly. "I do now, however."

"You're…" She trailed off and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. The nerve of the man! "My name," she told him acidly," is Evangeline Kane, daughter of Aidan and Eileen." It was difficult to even utter their names out loud, especially in Greyback's presence. She didn't mention her brother. She didn't want to cry in front of the bloody werewolf.

"Pleasure," he said casually. Without another word, he turned and started walking again. She followed him reluctantly. What else could she do?

"If you didn't know my name," she went on a moment later, "why were you even at our house in the first place? I assumed – we all did – that you were there on Voldemort's orders."

"Not at all," he said. "Your scent called to me, and I answered its call. Nothing to do with Voldemort." She expected some explanation to the cryptic reply, but he fell silent once more. She noted that he referred to his master by his name, however. Few Death Eaters dared. Then again, Greyback was not a proper Death Eater, only a hired thug.

Her _scent_ had called to him? What the hell did that even mean? Before she had time to enquire, they walked into a vast room filled with many long tables and benches. It had to be the dining hall. By her estimation, it could fit several hundred people easily. There were a few men here and there, sitting alone or in groups of two or three. One of them stood up as soon as they entered the room. He was a tall man, although not quite as tall as Greyback. He had fair skin and tousled brown hair.

Greyback stood near the door as the other man made his way briskly toward them. He stopped some distance away and kept his grey eyes on the floor, although Evey saw that he looked puzzled. "This is Scabior," Greyback told her. Again, she wondered why he was introducing the man to her. "He's my second. When I'm not around, he's in charge."

"Scabior," she repeated. "Is that a first name or a last name?" she asked the younger werewolf.

He remained silent, so she turned to frown at Greyback, who laughed. "They talk when I address them, _Schatz_. But they'll talk to you when I'm not around, I'm sure, once they get used to you."

This was becoming weirder by the minute. Why couldn't they speak freely when Greyback was there? "Have you… brainwashed them? Or are they under the Imperium Curse?" Scabior gave her an incredulous, almost fearful glance, but quickly settled his eyes on the floor once more.

Greyback barked another laugh. "This is how it works around here, girlie. I'm the Alpha. Do you know what that means?" he asked her.

She did, and she had known beforehand that he was their leader, but she had never thought the term 'Alpha' might apply to a person, even if that person was a werewolf. "You're the boss, yes, I knew that already. But so what? Why can't they look you in the eyes or talk without being prompted?"

"Because it's considered disrespectful," he replied as if it were obvious. "And because I might interpret a direct look as an invitation to brawl, something they want to avoid at all costs."

She made sure to gaze into his eyes when she spoke again. "I do hope you won't imagine I'm being disrespectful in any way, you manky git," she told him sweetly.


	28. What in oblivion is that

The Alpha's stare was a frightening thing and Scabior was glad he wasn't its recipient. He could almost taste the effort it took Fenrir not to bash the girl's head in. What was she even doing here? There had never been a female in Asgard before, not since they'd taken residence in the abandoned prison seven years ago. And how dared she act as she did, let alone address the Alpha so?

Fenrir must have sniffed out his anxiety and confusion because he suddenly shifted his attention to Scabior and briefly explained what was going on. Their surprise guest would be staying with them, he said. Scabior was to find her a room, as far away from anyone as possible, and make sure that everyone knew not to come near her. If anyone touched a hair out of her, he added, he would see them dead and hold Scabior responsible. With that, he walked away without another word to the female, who was frowning at them both in turn. She probably didn't speak Polish.

When he was certain that Fenrir was out of earshot, Scabior raised his head to gaze at the newcomer. She gave him an appraising look in return. She was very young, barely more than a cub, and pretty, he supposed. What truly mesmerised him, however, was her scent.

It was different than that of anyone he'd ever met. Every person – every human being – had their own unique scent, and those who were more – or less – than human had something extra, like the vampires, for example, who reeked of decaying flesh, even though they didn't actually rot, of course. Scabior could recognise most species by their scent, but this was nothing he'd ever encountered. It was not unpleasant, far from it; it was sweet, almost disturbingly so, like… like candy, or sugary liquor. What the hell _was_ she?

He considered asking her, but was thrown off by her steady, accusing glare. Well, it was hardly his fault that she was here. The Alpha had provided no name for her but thankfully, he'd said nothing about making conversation, so Scabior simply cocked his head toward the other end of the room and indicated that she should follow.

The other men present gave her uncertain glances and scowls and he heard several of them mutter to themselves that females had no place here. He couldn't agree more, if truth be told. There were over three hundred wolves who lived here permanently and about forty more who came and went as they pleased – the few who had families. The families were not allowed on the grounds, however.

"Can you speak now?" she asked as they made their way to the east wing, where they accommodated the wolves who visited occasionally. It was almost empty at the moment. He made no reply. "I see," she muttered. "Is that what he told you, earlier? To give me the silent treatment?" She sniffed disdainfully. "What is this place, anyway? I mean, it's a prison, obviously, but what are you doing here?" _Is she going to talk the whole way?_ he thought dismally. "Are you mute?" she asked after a moment. Hopefully, she would take his silence as an affirmation.

If she did, however, it didn't stop her from chattering. "I don't know how you can work for him. Do you have any idea what kind of… animal he is?" The hesitation had been clear. She didn't consider Fenrir as a person. They were all the same, weren't they? Werewolves weren't human, to them. They were inferior beings, rabid dogs that ought to be put down. The Alpha never failed to remind them of the fact, whenever he made a speech. Werewolves had no rights, none at all. _That_ was what they were doing here. They were trying to change that. And if it took an alliance with the Dark Lord to accomplish it, so be it. He didn't reply. Biased as she evidently was, she wouldn't understand. She would never see that _she_ was the one who had been brainwashed.

They arrived in the section where the guest rooms were. He carefully elected the one farther down the hall, as far away from the others as possible, but her mere presence – her scent, really – had already caused a few wolves to awaken. She gave them wary glances and he felt her step a little closer to him. What in the blazes made her think she was any safer near him than with the others? He was Fenrir's second, for crying out loud!

He ignored her and everyone else as they approached the cell he'd picked out for her. The door was open, of course – they could be closed, as they were back when the place still housed Muggle prisoners, but they rarely used the old mechanism anymore. Thankfully, it was still functional.

There was a colourful drape masking the inside of the former cell, to give guests some privacy. He gestured toward it, but the female simply stood there, gazing up at him stonily. "I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me," she said crisply.

"What do you want?" he mumbled eventually. He'd never met anyone so obstinate.

"I want you to tell that murdering bastard that, no matter how long it takes, I _will_ find a way to reverse the bloody curse," she told him fiercely.

Curse? Why did they all call it that? Being a werewolf wasn't a curse, it was a blessing. She turned away without another word, apparently confident that Scabior would deliver her message to the Alpha.

Well, he certainly wasn't going to. He rather enjoyed being alive.

* * *

He was accosted several times as he made his way back to the mess hall, but Fenrir hadn't told him who the female was or why she was here, so he could only grunt in reply and warn them not to go near her. The Alpha must have had a good reason to bring her here. He quietly reminded them not to question Fenrir openly, if they wanted to live.

Wolves were beginning to emerge as he entered the dining hall; dawn had come, and breakfast would be ready soon. Word was spreading fast, and Scabior suspected that the female's lingering scent had the men even more puzzled.

He would eat later. He needed to know exactly what was expected of him regarding their… guest. He paused only to growl at a few gathered wolves who tried to pester him with questions, and they scattered like sheep.

He reached Fenrir's office a minute later and waited to be admitted in. He didn't need to knock, of course; the Alpha would have heard him approach and recognised him by his scent. "Come in," Fenrir called out a moment later. Scabior stepped inside and waited for the Alpha's signal that he could sit down. He kept his eyes on the polished desk. "She settled in?" Fenrir asked. He smelled… annoyed, irritated.

"Aye. She's in the east wing," Scabior replied softly. It wouldn't do to aggravate his already foul mood.

The Alpha nodded. "Good. Don't worry, I'll make an announcement." He paused, and his scent shifted. Determination. That was more like it. "She's not a regular witch, as you might've picked up," he went on.

Scabior let out a noncommittal grunt. As far as he could tell, she was a bloody alien.

"I have no idea what she is," Fenrir admitted. "I don't suppose you've recognised her scent as anything you know?"

Scabior frowned at the desk. "It's like… candy floss, or maybe cherry _nalewka_ , or a mix of both. I've never–"

"What are you talking about?" the older wolf barked at him. "She smells like fresh, raw meat, not _candy floss_."

Scabior felt a sudden rush of confusion and worry. Meat? That was not at all what he'd gotten from the female. He had to thread very carefully. The Alpha was clearly angry now and it seemed directed at Scabior. "I… Fenrir, I don't know what to tell you. I swear that's what she smelled like. To me," he added after a brief hesitation.

The Alpha was silent for a long time. "Go fetch Gene," he ordered eventually.

Scabior stood up smoothly and hurried toward the entrance, where Eugene was to stand guard for another hour, and brought back the wolf to Fenrir's office. "Gene, that girl I came with earlier," the Alpha said, "can you describe her scent to me?"

Eugene was obviously uncomfortable at being interrogated by Fenrir. He stood far down the hierarchy, close to the lowest level, in fact. "Whiskey?" Gene replied uncertainly. "Aye, she smelled like Lagavulin, boss," he went on more firmly. "30 years old." How could they possibly not agree on what she smelled like?

"Has either of you ever been in contact with Amortentia?" Fenrir asked after a moment.

"What's that?" Gene wondered aloud.

"The love potion?" Scabior said with a frown.

" _Ja_ , the love potion. I've never encountered it, personally, but it's said to smell different to everyone."

"That's… that would be… Do you think she changes her scent on purpose, to mess with us?" Scabior said.

"I wouldn't put it past her," Fenrir muttered. "But I don't think so. Most likely, she's not aware of it."

"Fenrir… Who _is_ she?" Scabior finally forced himself to ask the question that had been torturing him for half an hour.

He sensed… hesitation… from the Alpha. That was unusual, to say the least. "Thank you, Gene. You can go back to your post," Fenrir told the other wolf. Eugene didn't need to be told twice. "I bit her," Fenrir said when Gene was a safe distance away. Scabior opened his eyes wide at the desk. "Yeah, I know. But I did, and she's here, alive and hale. That's not even the worst part," Fenrir went on. "We're… linked, somehow. Remember those puncture marks?" Scabior nodded without raising his head. That had been a puzzle. They'd turned the whole place upside down looking for the bloodsucker. "Well, it was her. She got bitten. We get each other's wounds, for some reason." That was likely what the girl had meant by 'curse'. Now he could understand her revulsion, if only because he sensed Fenrir's. "And, last but not least," the Alpha said, the distaste clear in his voice, "she can turn invisible. Like the fucking Swindler or those other two, whatever their stupid nicknames are…"

Scabior was the only one who knew who Fenrir was – who he _really_ was. Because of that, he was also aware of the existence of those so-called Ancients – vampires who fancied themselves gods, or the next thing to it. But the female… What did that make her? She wasn't a vampire, and she couldn't possibly be a werewolf. The very idea was ludicrous. He told Fenrir as much.

"I have no fucking clue what she is, but I intend to find out. What I _do_ know is that she will be staying here, under constant watch, until we figure it out. No matter how long it takes," he added resignedly.


	29. It's pointless arguing with you

She had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She kept seeing Walden's unmoving body. He couldn't be dead. He must have been Stunned. If he was dead, what was left for her out there?

She'd thought about suicide, plain and simple. It wasn't something she would have considered in other circumstances, but the situation was dire. Greyback was apparently impervious to magic and the wandless spells she'd attempted to unlock the door of her cell had proven useless. She suspected that magic couldn't be used inside the perimeter. If that was the case, what other weapon did she have at her disposal? She was locked up in a prison cell and surrounded by Merlin knew how many werewolves. The situation was dire indeed. At least if she died she would take the bloody beast with her.

The worst part was that she couldn't even wish for rescue. She knew Walden would try to find her at all costs – if he was alive – but what if he did? Even if the whole Order turned up, they would be badly outnumbered and unable to cast any magic besides. They didn't stand a chance.

And then there was the fact that she was linked to Greyback. What sort of magic could possibly be at work here? She'd never heard of anything remotely akin to that curse. Of course, her case was peculiar to begin with and Greyback had seemed as puzzled as she was, so it was nothing he had done – at least not wittingly. She wondered idly if she was connected in such a way to Antonin as well, if maybe it was something in her that had caused the bond she shared with Greyback, somehow. She might never find out now. What also troubled her was that the werewolf had healed as fast as she had. She'd never read anywhere that werewolves regenerated quickly.

Dawn had come and gone and no one had come to check on her. She was starved.

It was another hour – to the best of her estimation – before a man she hadn't encountered before appeared with a tray. He was about forty, tall and massive, with an unkempt beard and very little hair on his head. He eyed her quite thoroughly for a long moment, as if he'd never seen a woman before. He kept sniffling all the while. Maybe he had a cold.

When she'd had enough of his staring, she arched an eyebrow and addressed him as politely as she could manage. Maybe he wasn't here of his own free will, after all. "Can I help you?" Well, it came out a bit sarcastically.

He seemed to regain his senses at the sound of her voice. Shaking his head, he placed the tray near the metal gate of her cell. It was a full breakfast, with eggs and bacon, sausages and beans and even some toast. There was some coffee, too. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of that feast. How was she supposed to eat it through the gate, though?

The man cleared his throat roughly. "Um… I'm gonna open the door now," he said hesitantly in a thick Mancunian accent. "Um… please stay on the bed while I do that. And um… don't do nothing stupid. Please," he added sheepishly. Merlin, was he _scared_ of her? She was half his size, for crying out loud!

Then she realised he was more likely afraid of Greyback. The Alpha must have admonished his puppets to be careful around her. Well, he shouldn't worry. What could she possibly do? Wrestle with him? She giggled at the thought and he threw her a troubled glance before walking away, presumably to activate the opening mechanism. The door slid open a moment later but she waited for him to come back before moving. She didn't want to perturb him more than he already was.

"Um… you can have the food now, if you want," he muttered. She noticed that he maintained a safe distance between them.

She got up, picked up the tray and sat down on the bed to eat. She didn't look at the man again but heard the gate close a few seconds later. She ate everything but left the coffee. She didn't like the bitter drink, especially black. She hoped someone would think to give her some tea or water at the very least.

When she was done, she lay down on the bed once more and waited. She didn't have anything else to do. She'd saved the knife and fork that were provided with the meal and kept them within easy reach but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to use them. What would be the point, anyway? Even if she managed to kill one of them – and murdering presumably innocent people certainly didn't appeal to her – she wouldn't be any closer to getting out of here. It would only enrage Greyback – not that she cared about his feelings, obviously, but he might decide to take it out on the other wolves, since he couldn't harm her.

Everything considered, she was facing dire straits.

Scabior came by some time later, around lunch, she assumed, since her stomach was already acting up. She ate a lot more than she used to since she'd been attacked by Greyback the year before. As far as she could see, the only good thing that came out of it was that she didn't put on weight anymore. A very good thing indeed.

Scabior had removed the drape after their short discussion the night before so she saw him arrive. He bore no tray, she noticed with marked disappointment.

"Fenrir wants to see you," he announced without preamble.

Evey sighed. "He could have come himself. It would have saved you the trouble." She stood up to face him. "Well? I'm locked up, mate. You have to open the gate if you want me to come with you," she pointed out wryly.

He gave her a blank stare but made no reply as he moved to activate the door mechanism. She stepped out of her cell as he made his way back to it but he didn't seem bothered that she'd taken the initiative. He simply kept on walking silently along the corridor and Evey followed.

"You should stand up for yourself, you know. You don't have to do everything he says. You seem like a decent person. Why do you serve him? What did he promise you? What's holding you here?" Pestering him with questions hadn't worked the night before, but she hoped that he might get irritated and let something useful slip. He didn't. He kept his eyes firmly ahead and refused to acknowledge anything she said. Well, if he thought he could out-stubborn her, he was in for a surprise. "Whatever he promised you, I trust you're smart enough to realise it will never happen. He cares only about himself. Did he even tell you why I'm here? Did he explain that to you, o faithful second?" she asked with a smirk.

"Do you ever stop talking?" he mumbled in annoyance.

Ah. Progress. "I do not. Do you really condone murder? All of you here? I find it hard to believe that so many people could be like-minded, even if Greyback recruits only former inmates. Does he? Is that why you settled here?" She wouldn't put it past him.

"What the hell are you going on about?" he said suddenly. "Murder? He's not going to harm you, girl. He forbade anyone to even get close to you without his express consent."

She halted in the middle of the corridor and Scabior did likewise a moment later, though reluctantly. "He bit me," she told him fiercely.

"Yeah, I know that," he retorted impatiently. "He explained it all to me."

"Oh? Did he really?" she asked sarcastically. "And what excuses did he make for butchering my family?"

Scabior narrowed his eyes at her, obviously confused. _Explained it all, my aunt Fanny_ , Evey thought wryly. "Maybe you should enquire about the details. But regardless of that, he still bit me, and I'm a woman. He couldn't have known I was going to survive, could he?" she went on. Scabior was shaking his head slightly. "He's deceiving you, Scabior. How can you not see that?" she added softly.

"What a pile of tosh," the werewolf muttered. He started to walk again. "Come along now. He dislikes waiting."

* * *

"I take it you met Sherlock?" Greyback asked as she settled in the chair opposite him.

She made certain to keep her eyes on his. "Sherlock?" she repeated blankly.

"The wolf who brought you your breakfast. I know, it's an uncommon name, but his mother was crazy about Conan Doyle."

"Why do you keep introducing everyone?"

"Because it's the polite thing to do and because you're going to be here for a while. You might as well get acquainted."

"Did you have me come to your office just to tell me this?" she demanded. And did he honestly believe that being polite was going to make her more amenable?

"I wanted to know if you were settling in comfortably."

 _Codswallop_. "Wouldn't it have been easier for you to check on me in the cell instead of having Scabior bring me all the way here?"

His face hardened. "You'll have to come to terms with the fact that I'm in charge here, girlie. I don't go to people. They come to me."

"And what are you going to do if I refuse to comply in the future?" she asked him sweetly.

"I'll wager I'm more resilient to pain than you are," he replied quietly.

Before she had time to respond, he grabbed a letter opener on his desk and stabbed himself in the chest – right in the liver, if her knowledge of the human body served. That was all she had time to register. She went into shock and found herself suddenly unable to breathe. She slowly slid off the chair and fell to the ground with a crash, whimpering, tears of agony leaking down her face. The world went dark.

When she regained consciousness, it was all gone – the wound and the pain, anyway. Her already dirty T-shirt was now caked with blood. She wasn't even sore as she heaved herself back in the chair but the memory of the pain was still fresh in her mind and she winced reflexively at the sight of the letter opener.

"I'm sure you could get used to it," Greyback told her flatly – he looked as though nothing had happened, despite the blood that stained his shirt, "but surely you'll agree that it would be more pleasant for you if you weren't living in constant pain – or fear of it." He gave her a pointed look.

She made no reply. What could she possibly say? The man was obviously insane.

He nodded as if she'd just agreed to his words and called out to someone outside. He asked the newcomer – Marko, a dark-skinned werewolf in his late twenties – to take her to the showers then back to her cell, but to leave the door open and to rehang the curtain.

Well, this was going to be even more fun than she'd anticipated.


	30. When he first appears, he is a protector

The female's words nagged at him more than he cared to admit. It couldn't be true. Fenrir would never do anything of the sort. The Alpha despised wolves who were unable to control their urges, even during the full moon. That was part of their training, here in Asgard: to learn to control their impulses even while under the influence of the moon. It was a basic lesson taught from the beginning. Most of the children had already mastered the trick.

It had taken Scabior longer than most to acquire that simple ability. To be fair, his childhood had been even more troubled than that of some of the orphans currently residing in the former prison.

He had been raised in Reading by his _babunia_ , his grandmother, until he was six. She had taught him Polish but had made certain that his English was impeccable by hiring a tutor. She was not a demonstrative woman, but he felt perfectly at home there in their large house with the beautiful garden. He looked back on those days with fondness. His grandmother's only failing was that she had instilled in him, from a very young age, a certain inclination for _nalewka_ , a traditional Polish liquor that she macerated herself.

His mother had left him with the old woman when he was just a baby and Scabior never knew her until his grandma died. The government people placed him in his mother's care after a long research to find her. She had moved up north, near Blackpool, with the bloke she was fucking at the time, one Quentin O'Malley.

They were quite wealthy – or at least, Quentin was. He'd inherited a fortune from his parents and owned a large villa in a residential area. Scabior wasn't sure what it was they were into – heroin would be his best guess, but he knew little about drugs, even now – but they ignored him most of the time, so it wasn't so bad. He made some good friends at school – he had to insist to be sent to school, and they only consented when he explained that it was compulsory and that they could get in trouble with the authorities – and some parents, understanding his situation, made sure he was properly fed. When he turned nine, his stepfather – they had gotten married in the meantime, although Scabior hadn't been invited to the 'ceremony' – sent him to holiday camp. That was the summer when his life took a drastic turn-about.

He accidentally revealed his magical abilities – abilities he didn't know he had – in front of the whole gathered camp during the first week by levitating over the lake he was supposed to dive into. He'd never been comfortable around water and he'd wanted to avoid getting wet besides. Thus he was introduced to the wizarding world and, to his great distress, so were his mother and stepfather. In view of the circumstances, the Ministry had to get involved. They explained to Scabior that he was a wizard and that he would study at Hogwarts when he was old enough to attend. Apparently, the Levitating Charm wasn't the first one he'd used; he had done something magical that had alerted them before, although he couldn't remember the event in question – a Silencing Charm, they told him. Considering the screaming matches his mother and Quentin sometimes got into, he wasn't particularly surprised.

His mother walked out on them soon afterward. She left while he was at school. Quentin was passed out on the sofa when Scabior came home from school and he didn't wonder at his mother's absence until Quentin broke the news to him the following day. Scabior expected to be sent packing to the nearest orphanage or government facility until his mother could be found, but Quentin had other plans.

He asked Scabior to follow him down to the cellar that day. Scabior had never been downstairs before. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find there, but it certainly wasn't a cage. It was an old, rusty thing, and not quite high enough for him to fit in standing. "Cages. That's where we keep dangerous people," Quentin had told him. "That's where I'll be keeping you." Ensued a lecture explaining that Scabior was too dangerous to be left in the care of people who didn't know what he was, and that he, Quentin, was doing the world a favour by locking him up in his cellar, at great risk to his personal safety.

Scabior was chained to the wall inside the cage. He had a bucket at his disposal and nothing else. Quentin fed him when he remembered to. He was sick most of the time, weak and dehydrated. Quentin liked to use him as an ashtray when he was bored. Scabior still bore the marks of cigarette burns. When he felt like entertaining people, Quentin invited his mates over and prodded Scabior until he did something magical, to the great enjoyment of his junkie fellows. Incredibly, the wizarding world never caught up to Quentin, despite blatant exposure to unknowing Muggles.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted. He counted the days at first but was soon too weakened to do even that.

One day he heard a kerfuffle upstairs. The sound of smashing glass, a loud thumping noise. He assumed that Quentin had stumbled over an empty vodka bottle and crashed to the floor. He would be in a foul mood when he brought down Scabior's excuse of a meal. Scabior had curled up into a ball when he heard the cellar door creaking open. But it wasn't Quentin who descended the stairs.

It was Fenrir.

The Alpha had him out of his cage in a moment but he had to carry him upstairs, weak as he was. They retrieved Scabior's things, what little he had and, before Fenrir Disapparated – something he only learned about weeks later – he caught sight of Quentin disembowelled corpse lying on the kitchen floor.

That wasn't murder. It was justice, righteous punishment. That was what Fenrir stood for. If the female's family had truly been killed, then they had it coming, one way or another. That was how the Alpha dealt with people who didn't show him proper respect, like he had with that whiny bitch, Lyall Lupin. That was a story everyone knew.

Fenrir had taken him to his refuge, a renovated manor house somewhere in Wales and had given him the most precious gift of all: he had bitten him, and never again had Scabior allowed anyone to make him feel weak or helpless.

There were forty other werewolves residing at the place at that time, some of them children, others grown men who sometimes looked much older than Fenrir himself. The Alpha had taught them how to be proper werewolves, how to activate the powers that were normally only given them during the full moon, how to be the best of themselves. He hadn't raised them to be mindless killing machines, whatever the female believed. He had taught them to be what they were supposed to be.


	31. Rage against the dying of the light

He knew something was wrong the moment he opened his eyes.

For one thing, it was dark outside and he could see perfectly well despite the gloom in the room. For another, he wasn't breathing.

 _Oh no he didn't,_ he thought incredulously. He took his pulse gingerly, but sure enough, there was nothing for him to feel. His skin was cold. For Merlin's sake, he _didn't_!

The door opened at that moment and Tony walked in, looking agitated. He started when he saw that Walden was awake.

"What part of ' _do not turn me into a vampire under any circumstances_ ' did you _not_ understand?" Walden asked him crossly as he sat up in the bed.

"I… Wal, you were dead," Tony told him sheepishly.

"I figured that out already, thank you. And to answer my own question, you didn't understand any of it, apparently," he muttered.

"You were _dead_ ," Tony retorted angrily. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Let me die! What's so difficult to understand?"

"You want to die?" his brother asked. "Is that it?"

"Of course I bloody well don't _want_ to die, you prat, but I don't want to live like _that_ , either," Walden growled. "Damn you, we talked about this. I told you–" He cut off with an irritated growl. "You know what, never mind. You're a self-centred jerk. Nothing's going to change that."

"Oi, there's no need to be like that. I was just trying to help, for fuck's sake. What's the big deal? You're alive. Well, the next thing to it, anyway. That's what matters, isn't it?"

Walden didn't bother to reply. He would never understand. Tony shook his head. "Look," he went on, "I made a mistake, alright? Don't think I don't know that. It's even more of a cock-up than you know."

"How so?" Walden asked with a frown.

"I can only turn one person. Only one, in all my existence. We're supposed to wait for the next Ancient, not bite the first relative who dies…" He passed a hand through his hair. "Gorgo will be furious," he grumbled. The next instant, his eyes widened, as if he'd just realised he'd said something he shouldn't. "I mean, the Queen will be furious," he amended quickly.

"Gorgo?" Walden repeated wonderingly in spite of everything else. "The Queen of Sparta? Wife to Leonidas?"

Tony groaned. "Wal, you know I'm not supposed to… oh, what the hell. What's one more clanger at this point," he said sourly. "Yeah, it's her."

Walden tried to process the information, but it was a lot to take in. _Blimey, she's over two thousand years old!_ She'd witnessed history unfold in front of her eyes. _No, don't think about that now_ , he scolded himself. He had to focus on the matter at hand. Tony might have let it slip on purpose just to distract him. "I can't believe Evey let you do this. I told her to never allow you anywhere near me if I died," he said. "I know neither of you were given a choice when it came to becoming what you are, but…" Tony tried to interrupt him, but he went on without a pause. "…but that doesn't mean I shouldn't get one, damn you both."

"Walden," Tony said again, more insistently this time.

"What?" he asked with a glare.

"Evey's gone."

Walden stared at him in horror. "Gone? She's dead?" And he'd chosen to resuscitate _him_?

"No, no, not dead. Well, I don't think she is." He sighed. "Greyback took her."

He remembered now. He'd seen Greyback tackle her and he'd made his way toward them. No spell would do much damage to the werewolf; he would have to get close to him and physically remove him. However, something – his death, presumably – had prevented him from reaching them in time. "And you _let_ him take her?" Shit, that was worse than being dead.

"I didn't see it, alright? I didn't even know you were dead until the battle was over. I was on the other side of the room. I tried to save Sirius, but he was gone before I could get there. I guess I'm not as fast as I thought," he said with a grimace.

"Sirius is dead?" Tony simply nodded. Well, that sucked, but it was not the foremost thought on his mind at the moment. "We have to find her," he said determinedly as he got out of bed. "Why aren't you looking for her yet?"

"We're not allowed outside, remember?"

"We were outside just yesterday. Besides, this is an exceptional situation. Surely they'll agree. Don't they want to find her?" Walden asked with a frown.

"Of course they do. Lupin is already making enquiries to locate Greyback but, apparently, it's not as easy as that. He's been in hiding for years, and only members of his pack know his whereabouts. And by the way, it was a week ago, not yesterday."

Walden started. "She's been gone a _week_?"

"Well, six days. Transforming into a vampire is a lengthy process."

Six days. Damn! He didn't want to imagine what Greyback must have put her through already – if she was even alive. They had to find her, and fast. "Lupin was turned by Greyback, wasn't he?" Tony nodded. "Isn't there some sort of… bond, between a werewolf and his… maker?"

"How would I know?" Tony asked with an arched eyebrow. Merlin, he could be such an annoying twat, sometimes. "Ancients have this blood call thing. The maker can summon his offspring and let him know exactly where he or she is. Another perk of turning you, see. Now I can summon you at will," he said with a grin.

"I'm going to kill your undead arse if you don't quit joking around. Tony, this is serious. Do you have any idea what it must be like for her right now? Hell, you _saw_ what happened to her the first time."

"Yeah, alright, sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood." He ruffled his hair once more. "Wal, I already asked to be allowed to look for her. Dumbledore says he's got other people working on it and that there's not much more we could do. He's got a point," he said with a shrug. "As vampires, we won't go far, hunting down werewolves. They can smell us from a mile around and they'll be unlikely to help. You know how things stand between us and them."

"You get along just fine with Lupin, though," Walden pointed out.

"Lupin is an exception. He's an outsider among his own kind. Greyback probably despises him. I don't even know why he bit him in the first place. Lupin makes a terrible werewolf." He sat down on Walden's bed. "Anyway, I don't know why we're supposed to hate each other. It's… visceral. Like it's imprinted in our genes, or something. According to the rumour, the Bloodmother had a beef with the original werewolf, although we're not sure why. Jeanne didn't tell me much about werewolves."

"Did she mention something about the werewolf equivalent of an Ancient? That's part of the legend and, after all, if you people are real…"

"Us people, you mean," Tony corrected him with a smirk.

"Well, I'm not an Ancient, am I?" he retorted. "I'm just a regular bloodsucker."

"Yeah, I guess you are. That's a bother, I know. No walking around in daylight for you anymore. On the bright side though, you don't have to feed off humans."

"Since you broached the topic, of whom are _you_ going to feed off now? I assume I'm out of the question."

Tony's face went blank for a moment. "Er… I hadn't thought about that," he admitted. "But I don't have to feed very often, anyway." He made a dismissive gesture. "We'll figure something out."

"Are we at the Burrow?" Walden asked suddenly. He didn't recognise the room as one of the Black house. Although spotless, it was cluttered with all sorts of things. That was an accurate description of the Burrow in general, if he remembered correctly.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, we had to relocate, now that Sirius is dead. The Grimmauld place wasn't safe anymore."

"Is everyone else alright? The kids?"

"They're fine, but they're pretty shaken. Oh, and the Ministry has formally acknowledged Voldemort's return." Walden's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "He made an apparition, soon after you got hit. Harry fought him right in the main hall and Fudge showed up around that time with some Aurors. He resigned, by the way. They're considering Scrimgeour to be appointed Minister in his stead."

"It could be worse, I guess," Walden said with a shrug. "But that doesn't help us find Evey. I need to talk to Molly," he went on, turning to the door.

"Um… she's already in bed. We're in June, you know, so the sun sets late."

"Brilliant," Walden muttered. He would never see the sun again, he realised at that moment. That would take some getting used to. That, and the fact that he would have to drink _blood_. Well, at least he could still eat regular food, unlike Antonin. Damn, what would Evey think of him, if he ever saw her again?


	32. Never underestimate the power of denial

It wasn't as bad as she'd anticipated. Greyback was gone, for one thing. Before he left, he'd told her she could feel free to wander around and meet everyone. She would be safe around them, he'd assured her.

She'd spent the first days of her captivity in her cell, but Scabior had soon let her know that if she wanted to eat, she could bloody well get her own food. They weren't her servants, he said. She'd skipped the next meal, but her stomach wouldn't allow her to skip another and she was forced to join everyone in the dining hall for dinner. All the men present had stared at her and she'd ignored them as best she could, settling down at the end of a mostly unoccupied table until she realised she had to get a tray and fetch her meal at the counter. The food consisted mainly of meat and it wasn't very cooked, but she didn't mind. There was even dessert – a chocolate pudding. It wasn't even close to Mrs Weasley's preparations but it wasn't bad, either. They left her alone as she ate, quickly so she could go back to her cell as soon as she was done. She hoped she wouldn't have to wash the dishes afterward.

Apparently, they had worked out a system to decide who would take care of the chores and when, Scabior explained when she returned her empty tray to the counter. Greyback hadn't said anything about her participating, so Scabior told her to keep out of it. They could manage without her, thank you very much. Well, she certainly wasn't about to complain.

* * *

Despite Greyback's assurance that she had nothing to fear from the werewolves, she didn't dare go much further than the areas she'd already visited. As for talking to anyone, no one seemed eager to engage her in conversation. She tried to get a feeling of the place and its residents but in most cases, it was like talking to a brick wall. They were strangely reluctant to answer her questions and were blatantly uncomfortable around her. Scabior was just as close-mouthed as usual, unless she had specific questions about life at the prison.

During her fourth breakfast in the dining hall – she was carefully counting down the days she spent in Asgard – a short, skinny man asked if he could sit beside her. He appeared friendly enough, so she gestured for him to proceed. He didn't ask anything about her, who she was or why she was here, but talked at length about himself. She assumed Greyback had forbidden them to ask questions.

His name was Jabbar, he was twenty-seven and had been in Asgard for two years. He'd been turned at a late age, at least according to Greyback, who preferred to bite his wolves when they were little more than babies. They were soon joined by several more werewolves. She noted idly that they didn't seem to gather according to race or age or even their city – or country – of origin. She was introduced to the others and Jabbar was happy to recount everyone's story of how they'd ended up here. He was quite a chatterbox, unlike most of his companions. When they were done eating, he offered to give her a tour of the facility, which she gratefully accepted. Some of the others decided to tag along.

It was even larger than she'd assumed. Jabbar told her that there were three hundred werewolves living at Asgard at the moment. _Three_ _hundred werewolves,_ she thought in dismay. He added that the prison was located in Wales, in Snowdonia. She wondered at the fact that he was allowed to reveal that information, but realised that there was no way she could let anyone know, in any case. She found it strange that there was a prison in the reservation – Walden had told her that the largest part of Snowdonia belonged to the wizarding world and was home to many species of magical creatures – but apparently it had been a facility used mainly during World War II by the Muggle secret services. Jabbar said they'd even discovered torture chambers in the lower levels.

When they were done exploring the main building, he took her outside and indicated several of the other constructions. "This one is where we keep wolves who are having difficulties controlling themselves during the full moon," he explained as they passed what looked like a small brick warehouse.

The windows were obscured so she couldn't see anything inside. "What do you mean, those who can't control themselves? I thought werewolves lost all ability to think or act like humans when they were transformed."

That brought sniggers and emphatic shakes of the head from the others. "Control and discipline are the first things the Alpha teaches those who want to join his pack – that is to say, the werewolves he didn't turn himself," Jabbar told her. "The kids are usually better at it because they've been taught to do it since they were bitten."

"The kids?" she repeated with a frown. "You mean werewolves who are about your age?" From what she'd seen so far, the age groups seemed evenly divided. There were boys who were slightly younger than she was and men who could be grandfathers.

Jabbar and his mates laughed candidly. "No, I mean the actual kids." He pointed to a brightly coloured building a little farther away. "Come, I'll show you."

Merlin, there really were children. Not just teenagers, but little ones, as young as 4 or 5 as best as she could tell. Bloody hell.

Jabbar must have picked up her current mood, although she wasn't certain how she felt herself. "Don't worry, they're perfectly safe here," he said reassuringly. "There's always someone to look after them, day and night. There are twenty-two boys at present. They usually move in the main building when they're 14 – more or less, it depends. Some mature faster than others," he went on with a smirk directed at one of his friends.

Some of the children were reading, she could see through the window, others were apparently working on papers. The smaller kids were playing with various toys – quietly, so as not to bother their elders. "From age 6, they have classes in the morning," Jabbar explained, "except on Sunday. They have homework, though," he added. "The younger ones are taught to read as soon as they're able, but everyone learns how to be a proper werewolf. Fenrir often tutors them himself, especially the newcomers."

"Did he bite them all?" she asked with a grimace of revulsion. "Did he take them from their homes himself, or does he send you to do his bidding?" she added nastily. They were being nice to her, but she couldn't help feeling that they weren't treating the matter as they should. These kids had been kidnapped, for Merlin's sake!

They weren't laughing now, but they didn't look angry, either. She thought she saw pity – pity! – in Jabbar's eyes. "It's not like that. The Alpha only takes in orphans and children who live in abusive households. Look," he went on earnestly, "we're aware of what everyone thinks of him out there. We all know the reputation he's made for himself in the wizarding world, since he openly worked alongside Voldemort during the war. But you have to understand that he's nothing like that. He's not some bloodthirsty lunatic. He doesn't hate Muggles. He doesn't even hate wizards."

Like hell he didn't. Then again, she didn't know much about Greyback at all – nor did she care to. "If he's not a bloodthirsty lunatic, why did he murder my family?" she asked pointedly.

They were all staring at her. Greyback really hadn't told anyone what happened, had he? Hypocritical prick. And of course they weren't going to believe her. They would never believe it unless it came from their precious Alpha.

Well, she was wrong about that. "Yeah, Scabior told us about that, but… he seemed to think they must have disrespected him, somehow." The man who'd spoken, Croyd, must have realised she was surprised by his reaction. "Oh, we believe you, love. It's just… we've heard the stories, same as everyone else, of what he did during the war, but he _had_ a purpose, then, no matter what everyone thinks. Voldemort is just a means to an end, you see. To help the cause," he said matter-of-factly.

The cause? "What he's trying to say," Jabbar went on, "is that maybe he acted on Voldemort's orders. Not sure why Voldemort would want you or your family dead, but that's another problem entirely. I'm not condoning anything," he added hastily when he saw the look on her face. "But to be fair, you have no idea what it's like to be a werewolf. Fenrir is trying to change our status in the wizarding world, so that we can be seen as people in our own right and not be persecuted anymore. So that we can go to school like anyone else, have access to the same benefits as the next bloke. Is that really too much to ask?"

She didn't know where to start. "First of all, my parents and brother were Muggles. They didn't even know he _existed_ , so they couldn't have offended him in any way." She looked at them all levelly. "And he already told me that Voldemort wasn't involved. He said it was my scent that drove him to act as he did, whatever that means," she said with a contemptuous sniff. "Secondly, how in the blazes is killing people going to help with your image in any way?" she asked incredulously.

"It's not the killing that helps, it's Voldemort himself," Croyd muttered. "We don't like the bloody snake any more than you do, you know, but he promised us equal rights, when he rises to power. Nobody else ever promised us that. Hell, no one even bothered to mention it."

"You must be the only people in the world who still believe in promises made by power-hungry men who seek to rule over everyone else. In the Muggle world, we call them politicians," she said with a smirk. "Seriously, how can you trust a word he says? Don't you know how he treats those he calls Half-breeds, or magical beings in general? He despises everyone who isn't a Pure-blood witch or wizard. He might make use of them, mind, but he considers them as expendables, and in the end he will discard them – or destroy them, depending on his mood at the time, I suspect. And that includes werewolves." How could they not see this? "Don't you see that Voldemort is taking advantage of Greyback, of you? Now, I'm willing to accept that perhaps Greyback has been magically influenced, but why does everyone here happily plays along with it all as if associating with Grindelwald's heir were perfectly normal? He can't have gotten to _all_ of you," she said with a trace of despair.

"We're not under anyone's spell!" Croyd barked at her.

She didn't flinch at his vehemence. She'd managed to keep her cool around Greyback; she certainly wasn't about to let herself be intimated by his subordinate. "Then you must be plain stupid," she countered with a twisted smile. Without waiting for a retort, she turned on her heels and made her way back to her cell – without getting lost once, she noted proudly.


	33. Du riechst so gut

Fenrir watched the girl as she slept, wishing he could puzzle her out just by looking at her. She was curled up in a foetal position and snoring softly, although the faint sound was drowned under the other wolves who were sawing logs down the corridor.

He'd asked Scabior to identify men who knew what Amortentia was and how it smelled like, to them, and his second had found out three of them – there weren't many wizards amongst his pack. They all agreed that the girl was the love potion made flesh. It didn't make any bloody sense. He'd spent some of his time outside to research the matter, notably in London's largest wizarding library, but he'd come up with nothing useful. He would go to Leipzig when he had time. Their library contained much older records; he might find something relevant there.

Jabbar had recounted what happened when he'd showed the girl around the place and what she'd said. Fenrir wasn't sure what to tell them about her and what had brought her here. If he was being honest, he still had no idea exactly what had caused him to bite her in the first place. It appeared that the girl had avoided everyone after that incident. Well, if she wished to cut herself off from everyone else, it was her problem.

The girl roused from her sleep, stretching, and turned toward him. She started when she noticed him standing there and sat up rigidly, fitting the covers around her until only her head was visible. Fenrir snorted and took a few steps in her direction, leaning against the inner wall of her cell. "There's no need for that. That's not why I'm here."

"Aw, didn't you have a good time that first night? I'm terribly sorry about that. Perhaps my being paralysed with terror and grief and being otherwise loath to comply had something to do with it," she said wryly. Oh yes, that. He'd almost forgotten about it.

Before he could say anything, however, she went on. "Seriously, what were you trying to achieve? Judging by your reaction when you saw me at the Ministry, you had no idea I was alive. And it wasn't the full moon, so you don't even have that excuse. I just don't understand. Won't you at least explain _why_ you did it? Why _me_? They're all so certain there has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation," she added with a twist of her mouth.

"Whether the moon is full or not matters little to me. I was transformed when I bit you," he told her quietly. He chose not to reply to the multitude of other questions – at least for now. _Let us see what she makes of that, first._

She sniffed disdainfully. "Of course," she said flatly. "The mighty Fenrir doesn't need the moon to turn into a werewolf. Silly me."

Without even bothering to convince her verbally, he shifted to his wolf form – well, only his head. His clothes wouldn't survive a full transformation and he'd already ruined one shirt because of her. This should suffice, in any case. She gaped at him, fear and disbelief suffusing in her scent. He shifted back and ran a hand through his long grey hair.

She recovered more quickly than he'd anticipated. In a moment she was all cool contempt once more. "Even better. You were turned, so you had to be certain I would die. And you bit me as you raped me, so you – as a wolf – basically fucked a corpse. Let's add bestiality and necrophilia to the list of things I despise about you," she said in a mock cheerful tone.

"It was a spur-of-the-moment thing," he muttered. He barely remembered it, in fact.

She stared at him in shock, mouth slightly ajar, but made no reply. "You have to understand – I already told you – it's your scent," he went on. "It's… what's the word… alluring? No, not quite that. Compelling. Yes, that's it. Irresistible." He looked down at her. "We've concluded that your scent is like Amortentia. With our enhanced sense of smell, you can imagine the effects."

"Oh, I see. I smell like a love potion, that's why you wanted to make love to me. How romantic," she said bitterly.

"It was calling to me," he continued, ignoring her comment, "and I was miles away from your house, you know. Not even in your village. It literally drove me to your front door. When I got in, however, the scent permeated the whole place. I couldn't tell whose scent it was. I went to your room first, thinking you might be the source because it seemed stronger there, but I saw you were a girl and dismissed you right away. I sensed your wand, though, so I removed it from the drawer – just in case. I went to your parents' bedroom, but I didn't think it was them, either. Well, I never considered it might be your mother, of course. I knew that the boy was awake, so I was reluctant to open his door. It didn't seem to be him, though. It was quite confusing. I returned to your parents to compare his scent to your father's, but your mother woke up. I didn't stop to think. I couldn't risk them rousing the whole neighbourhood." Their death had been quick. He couldn't afford the seconds it would take for him to shift, so he'd simply used the Killing Curse. "Afterward I heard the boy move and go to you, and I listened to what you were saying, up to the point where you advised him to jump out of the window. I couldn't risk losing him – by that time I had persuaded myself he was the one I was tracking – so I stepped in." He paused, considering his next words, but realised it didn't matter how much he told her. "The scent I was picking up, you see, I could tell it was a werewolf's." She frowned. How to explain it to her? "I can tell who can be turned into a werewolf and who cannot."

"That's ridiculous. Werewolves don't know if their bite will have the expected effect beforehand. I mean, if they knew… if they've known all along…" Her eyes widened, but she had it all wrong.

"It's just me, girl. It's my special talent," he said ruefully. In his early years as a werewolf, he'd hoped that the werewolves he turned himself might inherit his ability, but none of them had, so far. "I'm not sure what happened next," he went on reluctantly. "When I walked into your room, I finally understood that you were the one, by contrast to your brother's bland scent, but the sheer proximity of you, it made me… lose control. I can't rightly explain it," he admitted out loud, for the first time since it'd happened.

"Are you saying it's my fault?" she asked indignantly.

Fenrir shrugged. If someone had to be blamed… "I've never lost control before. It must be something you did, or perhaps it's just what you are. Either way, it certainly wasn't my fault, as you say."

"I can't fucking believe this," the girl grumbled. "And if that's the case, why aren't raving right now, being so close to me?"

"The compelling part of the scent… vanished… after I was done with you," he said softly. "I assumed it was because you were dying," he added with a sour grimace. Granted, she was still alive when he left the house, when his bloodlust or whatever it was had finally dissipated, but no one should have survived the wounds he'd inflicted her. It hadn't been just the bite on her shoulder. If memory served, he'd almost gutted her, at some point. "Now I think that whatever I turned you into must have altered your scent. Perhaps the bloodsucker bite modified it even further." He still didn't know who the mysterious Ancient was. He'd… interviewed… several vampires in the past weeks but few of them even knew of the Ancients' existence, and those who did had never met any of them in person. It had been a complete waste of his time, just like the countless hours spent at the library.

The girl was shaking her head. "Compelling or not, I still blame _you_ , wolf. Attacking me because of my scent was one thing, but you murdered my family in cold blood, as far as I'm concerned, and I'll see that you pay for that. One way or another, I will," she said fiercely.

He hadn't expected anything less. He would have felt the same, had the situation been reversed. It didn't worry him in the least, however. It was time he got around to the reason he'd come to her in the first place. "Tomorrow's the full moon," he announced lightly. "Well, tonight," he amended. It was past five in the morning.

Before he could give her the details, she spoke again. "Where do you get enough Wolfsbane to supply the entire pack?" she asked with a faint scowl.

He barked a rough laugh. "We don't use that shit," he said scornfully. "It only makes it worse, you know, in the long run. You feel like you're getting used to the inner beast, like you can control it, but if you skip the potion just once… That's when wolves go berserk and start hurting people. Considering the price and difficulty of obtaining the potion, it does more harm than good. We don't have such trouble here in Asgard. They have the proper discipline, the necessary detachment from their werewolf alter ego, to know what they're doing. No human has ever been harmed around here, not by my wolves. Of course, few people ever venture in these parts in the middle of the night," he admitted.

"So what, you just hang around in the prison all night? Playing cards?" she said with a sneer.

He sighed. Now he could see just what Scabior meant by ' _she's a bloody pain in the arse_ '. She used her sense of humour – if it could be called that – as a coping mechanism. "We hunt, _Schatz_. There are wards in place in the woods, to make sure Muggles don't stumble upon us, and most wizards know better than to enter a forest during the full moon. We prey on animals. We take down the occasional troll. We're careful not to harm the unicorns though. They are too few as it is."

"You just let them roam the woods freely?" she asked in horror. "All three hundreds of them at the same time?"

" _Genau_. Now, it's entirely up to you, but you may want to close the gate to your cell for the night. No one will come anywhere near you, but you may feel safer, I suppose."

"You bet I want the door closed," she said. "All the doors, preferably. Can't you just put the prison under lock down or something?"

"Girlie, you are safe here. Even if we decided to remain inside, you'd still be safe," he told her matter-of-factly. She just couldn't believe that werewolves could be civilised, could she? Maybe he ought to take her with them to the woods. She would see then that they were perfectly able to restrain themselves. But no – come to think of it, it was probably better for her to fear them, and him most of all.

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word on it," she said scathingly, glaring at him.

He felt the last remnants of his patience dwindle. "You will have to watch your tone when you address me, _Fratz_. I've allowed your impudence long enough. I've done what I could to make you feel at home here and the least you can do is be civil in return."

"At _home_?" she repeated incredulously. "I have no home, thanks to you," she snapped at him. "And what if I don't comply, huh? What are you going to do about it? Repeatedly stab yourself in the liver?" she offered crookedly. "I will get used to the pain, eventually."

He gazed at her blankly for a moment. He certainly wasn't about to do anything of the sort. He had only so many shirts, after all. "What if I demonstrated more of that bestiality you despise so much?" he put in idly. "Would you get used to that, as well?"

That shut her up, at least.


	34. Now that you've gone away

He had no trouble adjusting to living exclusively at night – he'd always kept odd hours, thanks to his job – but for the fact that he couldn't speak to anyone except Antonin. It wasn't that he felt the need of other people's presence, but he wanted to discuss with Molly, at least, to figure out exactly what they were doing about Evey. She'd been taken a month ago. She could be dead, he knew, but he hoped that Greyback might keep her alive when he realised she'd survived him once already. He might be intrigued and thus decide not to kill her. The werewolf was a rough man, but he wasn't stupid. He would see that she could prove valuable.

Unfortunately, that might lead him to let Voldemort know about her. Walden couldn't decide which alternative was the worst.

His only consolation these days was Nana, who clearly understood that something was wrong and kept close to him at all times. She had been puzzled at first, when she'd first seen him after he emerged from the transformation process. His scent must have changed when he became a vampire. She had been hesitant, almost frightened by him, but she'd come around eventually, to Walden's deepest relief.

Drinking blood was not quite as terrible as he'd imagined. Dumbledore and the others made certain that there was always sufficient blood at their disposal – unlike his brother, he needed to feed every few days, and they still thought Antonin fed off the blood they provided. When the blood was at room temperature, it was drinkable, but he still made sure to eat some regular food at the same time to wash the metallic taste out of his mouth. All he had to do was avoid garlic. It wasn't lethal to him, but it made him itch uncontrollably.

He wasn't afraid of accidentally stepping in a sunlight patch during the day. He felt himself starting to doze off the moment the sky began to clear and didn't stir at all until it was pitch black outside. He slept – literally – like the dead. Nothing short of someone ripping away the curtains would disturb his rest. Being in direct contact with the sun would mean his death, unless Tony managed to get him out in time – which was unlikely, as regular vampires burned like dry kindling.

He had requested a meeting with the remaining members of the Order – Emmeline Vance had been murdered the week before, and Sirius was gone – but they were clearly stalling. The person he really wanted to see was Lupin, but the werewolf had apparently been sent on a specific mission and would be unavailable for some time.

The kids were back from school, although at present only Ron and Ginny were at the Burrow, as well as Molly's eldest son, Bill, and his fiancée, Fleur Delacour. Walden had yet to meet her, but Tony had declared that she was the most beautiful woman on earth – before finding out she was actually part Veela, so she was cheating, he'd amended. Arthur was busy at the Ministry, and so were other members of the Order, like Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who'd been appointed to the new Prime Minister's office staff. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter should be here in a few days, according to Tony. Maybe Dumbledore would deign to show himself at some point.

Well, if no one was going to accede to his request, he would have to make himself heard – and the only way to achieve that was to act through Antonin. He made his brother ask Molly to remain downstairs until Walden woke up.

When he walked into the kitchen that night, Molly was there with her soon-to-be daughter-in-law, who was chattering away happily in a heavy French accent that reminded Walden of Jeanne's. Molly looked stricken, but he knew she was too polite to interrupt the girl. Tony said Molly and her daughter weren't particularly fond of Bill's future wife. Tony himself thought she was quite nice, but he'd always had a weak spot for beautiful women, no matter their personalities.

The young woman started slightly when she saw him, but Molly seemed almost relieved by the interruption. "Ah, there you are," she said briskly. "Fleur, dear, if you don't mind, Walden and I must speak privately for a moment." She sounded cordial enough, but her tone was quite firm and brooked no argument. The French woman gave Walden a keen look before starting up the stairs and he heard her gasp a second later when she must have almost run into Antonin.

His brother was grinning widely when he sat down at the kitchen table. "Alright, you got your meeting," he told Walden. "Best not to keep Molly waiting."

Walden sat across from the Weasley matriarch. "Molly, I really need to know that the Order is doing everything it can to find Evey." He took a deep breath. "She's more important to me than you know," he went on softly.

She surprised him by patting his hand. "I do know, dear. Antonin told me you were engaged when they brought you back here after that awful business at the Ministry. He explained that it was why he turned you."

Walden stared at her in astonishment, then at his brother. That wasn't the explanation he'd received. And Molly had known for a month? Why did she look so understanding? He had assumed she would be on the warpath when she found out. Maybe her obvious distaste toward Bill's fiancée had something to do with this unexpected reaction. He cleared his throat. "I… well, in any case, he wasn't very clear on the measures deployed to search for her," he said, trying to get the conversation back on tracks.

Molly gave him a rueful smile. "I'm afraid everyone has their hands full at the moment, but Remus is still hoping to pick up clues as he infiltrates the werewolves' network."

Walden blinked in shock. They sent _Lupin_ to infiltrate the werewolf organisation? Granted, he _was_ a werewolf, but no true wolf would ever take him seriously, Greyback least of all. Fenrir could sniff out a lie a mile away. Molly seemed so earnest, however, that he tried his best to conceal his consternation. "And um… any luck? Have you heard from him recently?" Walden prompted her.

Molly shook her head. "Not since he left, no. I'm sorry, Walden. I wish I could tell you we're going to find her soon, but I can't. Believe me, I want her back at least as much as you do." Of anyone else, he wouldn't have thought it possible, but this was Molly. She had a tendency to care – and worry, often as not – about everyone close to her. That had always been her weakness – or her strength, arguably.

"Is Arthur back from the Ministry yet? He might have heard something from Tonks or Shacklebolt."

"No, he's still there. He works very late, these days. He shouldn't exhaust himself like that," she went on anxiously. "He's not as young as he seems to think."

"Molly, do you have any idea when Dumbledore will come here?" he asked, feeling almost desperate.

"He said he would come by with Harry at the end of the month, if everything went according to plan," Molly replied. "But I doubt he'll stay very long."

"If he comes during the day, will you please tell him to either wait for me to wake up, or to get in touch at night sometime? We really need to search for her more actively. Aren't there any other werewolves working for the Order, or willing to help? Do you think Dumbledore would allow us to go outside to–"

"Walden, dear, I have no idea. I don't know as much as you seem to think, and I haven't seen Professor Dumbledore since we relocated the Headquarters here at the Burrow. You will have to be patient, I'm afraid."

"Patient?" he repeated incredulously. "Molly, she could be dead already! Hell, she probably is. But I won't rest until I find out, you mark my words."

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "Alright mate, calm down. It's not her fault. I'm sure everyone is doing what they can. And Evey is not the frail little girl Greyback would expect her to be. I wouldn't be surprised if he's regretting kidnapping her already," he said in an obvious attempt to clear the air.

"Antonin is right," Molly said. For a moment she seemed taken aback that she'd agreed with his brother, but she recovered quickly. "Evey is quite capable. She can take care of herself. I'm sure she will be alright, until we can rescue her. And we will," she added firmly.


	35. Quid pro quo, Clarice

Fenrir grimaced when he picked up the newcomer's scent. What the fuck did _he_ want?

A middle-aged man entered his office a moment later. He carried himself proudly, rigidly. His features were plain, with a square jaw and a large forehead. He sported a well-trimmed white beard that contrasted with his tanned skin.

"Well, well," Fenrir said with a smirk, "if it isn't Elephant Man himself."

"Your sense of humour never ceases to amaze," the other wolf replied blandly.

"What do you want, Barca?" Fenrir growled.

"It's Whiptail for you, cub. I'm here to pass along a message. We warned you the last time, Greyback. This isn't our way. We use the gift to turn, not to kill. We have the ability to recognise those who can be transformed safely and it is therefore our responsibility to use it for that purpose." He must be referring to the attack on that Half-blood family two nights ago. Well, it was hardly Fenrir's fault. The old man had gotten in the way, and Fenrir hadn't killed him directly in any case. His heart had failed him, plain and simple. The one he'd bitten had been successfully turned, thank you very much. "We tolerate the fact that you serve the dark wizard – although few of us approve – but some things just won't be allowed," the man who had once been known as Hannibal Barca went on. Fenrir had never known anyone so tedious. "Tread carefully. We wouldn't want to have to put you down. There are too few of us as it is."

"I don't _serve_ him," Fenrir barked fiercely. "I serve _us_. All werewolves. I serve our cause. What's the point of using the gift and turning so many, if they have no rights, if they're constantly persecuted? We have a responsibility toward them and, as far as I can see, I'm the only one who's doing anything about the situation." Bloody hell. It was one thing to hear that sort of talk from the girl, but from a supposed… well, not a friend, not quite, but from a fellow werewolf… it was frustrating.

 _Scheiße_ , Fenrir thought suddenly. _Do they know about the girl?_ Whiptail might have detected her scent as he walked in. It stood out, even amongst that of the hundreds of wolves gathered in the place. If the other man had sensed anything out of the ordinary, however, he didn't mention it. "Heed my words, cub," the older man urged him. "Our patience has its limits." With that, he simply turned on his heels and exited the room.

They were unto him. He would have to be careful, that much was certain. The girl was his. Whatever happened, he wouldn't let them have her.

* * *

There had been no incident during the full moon, apparently. No werewolf had suddenly appeared in the hall to scare her. She'd heard faint howls coming from outside, but that was all. After their little chat and Greyback's latest threats, she had decided it would be wiser to keep her mouth shut around the Alpha. He might have been bluffing, but he was the one who could sniff out lies, not her. In any case, she hadn't seen much of him since that day.

She'd resolved to befriend some of the other werewolves. She sat down near Jabbar a few days after the full moon – Greyback had warned her that everyone might be a little cranky for a while – and was glad when he simply engaged in meaningless conversation. She had hoped that she might change their minds about Greyback when she recounted the details of their conversation about the night her family was murdered, but they simply looked troubled. Perhaps it would at least cause them to question their leader and his supposed righteousness. Anything she could do to undermine him was potentially profitable to her.

Now, a month and a half into her captivity, she had been adopted by most of the pack. She wasn't sure what influence she might have over them, but at least they weren't afraid of her anymore. She had been stunned to learn that was why they'd been reluctant to talk to her, especially after she'd been so unpleasant with Jabbar and his mates that day. But still, _afraid_? She was utterly helpless, unable to do any magic, and only a smidge bigger than the youngest kids.

She'd enquired about the exact nature of their alliance with Voldemort. It was clear that they resented him – Greyback included – and she was therefore curious to know what had initially led the Alpha to strike an agreement with the dark wizard. As it turned out, it hadn't started out that way at all.

Croyd explained that Voldemort had captured Greyback during the early days of the First War, although how he had managed that remained obscure. Black magic was involved, assuredly. Back in those days, Voldemort took what he wanted by force. It probably never occurred to him that he could make a deal with the werewolves until it was pointed out to him much later – by Greyback himself.

The Dark Lord wanted to study werewolves, to make them his own creatures and Greyback was, by all accounts, the most fearsome of them all. He had several of his partisans search for a way to neutralise him and render him obedient. Croyd and his mates sniggered at that. 'As if anyone could tame the Alpha,' they said derisively. As they made no progress, the project was eventually discarded and Greyback left in a cell to rot. Security around him grew lax. Wards weren't kept in place as they should have been. Greyback escaped, mangling eight Death Eaters in the process, only to make his way to Voldemort. He proposed an alliance. To lend his services to the snake in exchange for his promise that werewolves would be given equal rights once he ruled over England.

Soon after that incident, Croyd went on, Voldemort's methods of recruiting became somewhat more diplomatic, thanks to Rookwood and that Scottish bloke he sent out to enlist magical beings and creatures. _Walden_ , Evey thought ruefully. Croyd said he met the Scotsman himself and, although he was obviously not doing this of his own free will, or not entirely, he certainly had a knack for it.

She'd expected another visit from Greyback before the second full moon but it was Scabior who showed up. She was outside playing basketball with a few wolves – not the best choice of activity, but whatever they did, they were all faster and stronger than she was. She'd always been a sore loser but was quickly learning to accept defeat with a smile. She didn't have much choice.

"Fenrir wants to see you," Scabior grumbled. Everyone had interrupted what they were doing when Greyback's second entered the courtyard and they all kept their eyes on the ground, just like they did whenever the Alpha was around. She was getting used to that and was slowly figuring out who was higher in the hierarchy than whom. Well, 'higher in the hierarchy' wasn't exactly what it was – the way they explained it, it sounded more like they'd had a pissing contest and thus determined who was above whom. _Men_ , she thought, amused.

When she entered Greyback's office, however, she fixed him straight in the eyes. She would be civil – to the best of her ability – but she would _not_ lower her eyes. She would not give him the satisfaction.

It only made him chuckle. "You do realise it doesn't matter if _you_ do that, don't you?" he asked with blatant amusement. "I don't expect proper respect from anyone outside the pack, and even less from you. It doesn't make you look defiant, if that's what you were hoping to achieve."

She made no reply. She had _not_ realised that. From the shocked – and sometimes frightful – glances she received from some werewolves whenever she glared at Scabior, it seemed to have the desired effect, as far as she was concerned. But Scabior was not Greyback.

"Anyway," he went on in a more business-like tone, "you know the full moon is approaching, but that doesn't really concern you. Scabior will lock you up if you want." He made a dismissive gesture. "What I wanted to ask is the name of the Ancient the Order of the Phoenix is currently harbouring."

Did he, now? And that after dismissing the matter when she'd arrived here. He must have tried to puzzle it out on his own and failed. "Does Dumbledore know what she – or he – is? And for that matter, how much do _you_ know, exactly?" Why was he suddenly asking after Antonin, anyway? Had something happened? She had no idea what was going outside of the prison. Although if he was mentioning the Order and Dumbledore, it probably meant they were still operating.

"You can do whatever you want to me, I will never tell you who that person is." She was careful not give any gender. According to Tony, most Ancients were women. "I mean it. You can rape me, cut me to pieces, do both at the same time – I know you like doing that – but I won't tell you," she told him. She did her best to keep her expression blank but wasn't certain how successful she was. Truth be told, she had no idea how much pain and degradation she could withstand. And he could probably tell she was bluffing, anyway, just from the subtle increase of her heartbeat, or whatever it was that gave the lie away. "I'll answer the question about Dumbledore and the Order if you tell me something, though," she went on in an attempt to deviate the conversation.

He arched an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

"When you captured me, you said 'There goes Macnair'. You said it as if he were dead. But he's not, is he?" She couldn't help her voice from rising slightly. She'd wanted to ask him that for weeks; Scabior hadn't known anything about it.

"He's dead alright. Lestrange blasted him with a Killing Curse. He was dead before he hit the floor."

His face was expressionless as he told her that her fiancé was dead. She wouldn't believe it until she heard it from Tony, but it was still a hard blow. She shook away the images of Walden lying still on the cold stone ground that assailed her mind. "Fine. I don't know how much Dumbledore knows. I haven't seen him since…" She thought about it for a moment. "…not since I woke up after our initial encounter, actually. The other members of the Order never mentioned it or made any remark that might lead me to believe they know."

"But you know," he stated. She nodded curtly. It wasn't really a question, anyway. "Alright. Let's put your legendary defiance to the test," he said as he got up and picked up a sharp-looking knife. _Oh, shit, he's really going to do it, isn't he?_ He seriously intended to harm himself in order to make her talk. _Bloody hell_ , she thought as she closed her eyes.


	36. Doch nur ein Tier

She was lying on the floor, panting hard. How long had they been at this? The pain from the wounds vanished after a few moments, whether she blacked out or not, but she was feeling cramped all over and exhausted from the repeated torment her body was being put through. As she placed her hand on the carpet to push herself back to her feet, it exuded blood. The carpet was ruined, that was for sure. Her clothes too, presumably.

She hadn't talked. Not yet, anyway. As she sat back in the chair, Greyback was gazing at her with what looked like wonder in his eyes. Thankfully, he hadn't done anything but tear her flesh apart, so far. That wasn't something she would normally be thankful for, but considering the alternative…

" _Verdammt_ ," he muttered. He didn't look so good himself. He'd removed his shirt a while ago and thrown the shreds in the garbage can. His massive chest was bloody and, although the gashes he'd opened recently had disappeared, he was riddled with older scars. It seemed his past had been as violent as his present was.

"Are you quite done?" she asked flatly. "I'm hungry."

He surprised her by bursting with sudden laughter. "You're unbelievable," he said, shaking his head. "Alright, let's call it a day," he added with a shrug. "You do realise I'll learn her name sooner or later, don't you? You can't protect her forever."

Apparently, he had decided that the Ancient whose identity she was preserving was a woman. That was good. She had not suffered in vain. "And you can't keep butchering yourself like that, you fucking demented Nazi," she countered wearily.

His face hardened, all trace of mirth vanished in an instant. She had been calling him names from the moment she set foot here, but never before had he reacted to it. "Do you call Nazi everyone with a German accent, or am I receiving special treatment?" he asked in a low growl.

She was blushing in shame before she could stop herself. She had only used that term as an insult once in her life, when she was too young to comprehend it. She hadn't understood what it meant, then, but her parents had explained, after chiding her. They had always explained why something was forbidden, unhealthy or otherwise advised against. She wasn't sure why she'd used it now. Perhaps it _was_ the accent, she thought bashfully. But to be fair, the man had just spent the better part of the morning torturing her. And he _was_ demented, at least. "No, not everyone," she replied coolly, "only those with a murderous streak."

Slowly, he raised his left arm and pointed to the tattoo that was inked there. He had several tattoos, the tasteless sort she disliked, large and with no meaning that she could see. The one he was showing her now was different, however. It was very poorly executed, quite faded, and represented a number.

A six-figure number. On the left arm. _That's impossible_ , she thought incredulously. _He's too young._

He must have sensed that she recognised it for what it was. "You should never use that word lightly, little girl."

"But it doesn't make any sense!" she exclaimed. "You're… what… forty-five? Fifty? You can't have been in Auschwitz during the War. Even if you were, you were just a kid. I doubt that they bothered to tattoo the children," she said.

"No, indeed not," he confirmed matter-of-factly. "The children were sent to the gas chambers. Unless they were twins," he added with a sour twist of his mouth.

Twins? Oh, of course. Josef Mengele, the Angel of Death, had operated in Auschwitz in the last years of the Second War. He was a… doctor, a researcher. He was said to have a particular interest in genetics applied to twins, and Auschwitz provided him with plenty of human test subjects. "You… had a twin?" she asked uncertainly. Merlin, why was she pursuing the conversation? She didn't want to hear this.

"I had twin daughters," he replied softly.

Shit. She most _definitely_ didn't want to know that. But… "How could you have had kids by that time?" she went on with a frown. It simply didn't add up.

"I was thirty-two when they took us to the camp. In 1943. I'm eighty-five." That delivered as if he was commenting the weather.

"What tosh," she whispered. "Werewolves are not slow-ageing, and they're certainly not immortal."

"Neither are vampires," he countered crookedly.

And then the Knut dropped. How had she missed it? He was not an ordinary werewolf. Damn, it should have been obvious from the beginning. _Burn me,_ _he's an Ancient_. The thought filled her with dread.

"Well, we don't call ourselves that. For obvious reasons." She hadn't realised she had spoken out loud.

She tried to gather her wits. There were so many questions… But would he answer them? "What _do_ you call yourselves? Elders, like in the children's books?"

"We don't really use that, either. We rarely refer to ourselves as a collective. Although some of us have decided that we should have nicknames, like the bloodsuckers."

"Greyback."

He smirked. "Can you think of anything more ridiculous?" he asked scornfully. "Honestly."

"That's why you call yourself Fenrir."

"Much more fitting, wouldn't you say?"

"What's your real name, then?" In spite of everything, she was becoming more curious by the minute.

"That is irrelevant," he answered dismissively.

"I suppose it is," she conceded. "I take it you didn't become a werewolf in Auschwitz. I know they studied werewolves there, at some point, but if you kept the appearance you had when you were turned…"

"I was bitten later, yes. In the late fifties. You seem to know your onions about concentration camps," he went on shrewdly. "Morbid fascination?"

"Duty of remembrance," she retorted. Greyback chuckled. "Did you kill him?" Evey went on, undeterred.

He scowled. "You'll have to be more specific, _Süße_. I've killed many people."

"Mengele. You tracked him down, didn't you?"

He was silent for a moment. "Yes," he admitted eventually. "How did you know?"

"Well, if I'd been turned into a werewolf with exceptional abilities and I knew exactly who was responsible for my kids' death… You had to know he was somewhere in South America. It would have been easy enough for you to hunt him down."

He grinned a very wolfish grin. "See, we're not so different, you and I," he said tauntingly. "I kept him alive for forty-two days. Not sure what got him in the end," he went on dispassionately. "Sceptic shock from one of the rat bites, perhaps."

He did realise that she was going to do the same thing to him, as soon as she found a way, didn't he? "How many Elders are there?" she asked, changing the subject once more.

"Fourteen, including me."

She frowned slightly. She hadn't expected him to answer. "And… who are they? Are they… historical figures, like the Ancients?"

He thought it over for a minute. "Yes, I suppose they are. But whereas the vampires became famous – or infamous – in their lifetime, most Wolves achieved recognition after being transformed. That is probably due to the fact that the leeches have to die in order to become what they are, and we don't."

"Who bit you?"

"Rasputin. They call him Goldeneyes."

Well, apparently they didn't have the same rules on secrecy as the Ancients. Or perhaps Greyback simply didn't care. Then her mind did a double take. "Grigori Rasputin? The Russian mystic? He's a werewolf?"

"Uh-huh. And if you think I'm demented, you clearly haven't met _him_ ," he added with a tight smile.

"Who else?" she asked. Unlike vampires, there weren't any 'famous' werewolves. They didn't have an equivalent to Dracula.

He counted off his fingers. "Attila, Erik the Red, Blackbeard, Miyamoto Musashi, Cortés, Hunac Ceel, Ivan the Terrible, Bill the Conqueror…" He trailed off with a frown. "Bah, I don't know. I always forget a few. Doesn't matter. You get the idea."

She stored the names away carefully for later reflection. "Do you have special abilities? Beyond the fact that you're immortal and can turn at any time, I mean."

Greyback laughed. "I can do everything a transformed werewolf can do, and more besides. But Wolves don't have any of those fancy abilities the Ancients have, if that's what you were asking. We can't control minds or fly or whatever it is they do." That didn't seem to bother him. He clearly wouldn't trade being a werewolf for any 'fancy ability'.

"Did you kill Hitler?"

He raised an eyebrow. "The coward committed suicide. Everyone knows that."

"Well, the history books don't mention you executing Mengele."

He chuckled softly. "True. But Hitler was dead before I was transformed," he pointed out.

"Right." _What an odd conversation_ , she reflected. How much more would he let on about the Elders – or Wolves, as he called them? "You've bitten plenty of people. Does that mean you can turn as many people as you want?" Antonin, she knew, would only be allowed to transform one person into a vampire, and it had to be an Ancient. He or she would be the next to receive the invisibility power.

"Yes. There'll be only one like me, however. We pass on the gift from one Wolf to the next." He cocked his head sideways, his now-grey eyes gazing at her intensely. They changed colour at night, she'd noticed, turning a warm honey gold. "What is it you think to do with all that information, girl? You smell so smug, as if you'd pried it all from my mind yourself, but what good will it do you?"

None, she suspected. But, admittedly, she was asking more out of curiosity than any real hope to make a difference when – if – she returned to the Order. She chose to ignore the remark, however. "It changes everything, of course," she said instead. "The fact that you are a Wolf must have something to do with the fact that I am… whatever I am. Had you ever tried to turn a woman before? Maybe it's a perfectly normal consequence, but you wouldn't know because you only bite men, since – theoretically – only they can become werewolves."

"Do you really believe I've never bitten a woman before? That none of us have?" He let out a derisive snigger. "It always ended up with the same expected result. Death. You're the odd one out, girl, not me, or even that _Gottverdammt_ parasite of an Ancient. You were something else before she or I even bit you. As to what that is… it remains a mystery, for now," he admitted reluctantly.

"I wonder what your family would think of you, if they could see you today," she speculated idly.

He looked confused by the abrupt change of topic. "What do you mean? I avenged them. They would have no reason to disapprove of me."

"And you killed about as many innocent people as Mengele ever did. And you're immortal, so it won't stop there. The way I see it, you're just as bad as the Nazis ever were." That would most likely earn her a fresh round of lacerations, but she was past caring. If he thought to appeal to her sympathy by victimising himself, he was a fool. _An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind_ , wasn't that the saying? Of course, she was perfectly aware that she intended to act just as he had, in the name of what she liked to call justice. But it was different. She wasn't acting out of sheer personal revenge. She would be doing humankind a favour by ridding the Earth of his malevolent presence. She would sacrifice a part of soul, and possibly her life – if she couldn't figure a way around it – to save lives. Yes, that made all the difference.


	37. The things I do for love

"Bloody hell, we need to do more than this. We need help. Remus is not getting anywhere, and neither are we." His brother paced the room as he spoke. They hadn't been allowed to go out to look for Evey, but that hadn't stopped Walden. He sneaked out every night to gather what information he could but, as Tony had predicted, information of any sort was hard to come by. Werewolves, in their human form, could not make use of the enhanced senses that came with their monthly transformation, but they could still tell a vampire apart from a living person – apparently, the stench of rot and decay was strong enough to perceive even then. On the other hand, vampires could not detect werewolves. They were truly disadvantaged. The few Walden had found – the few who had accepted to talk to him – were reluctant to speak about Greyback. Most of them were terrified of him, and Tony couldn't blame them. He'd met the Alpha before.

"I told you a million times, Wal, even if they agreed to talk, Greyback's den will be protected. Magically warded. He's got Voldemort on his side, remember? They probably _can't_ tell you. Remus will face the same problem wherever he goes, no matter whom he speaks to. Although to be fair, it's miraculous enough that he's survived so long out there. He's a sheep among the wolves – quite literally." Tony sighed. He had been a vampire long enough now that exhaling felt weird to him. Almost… unnatural. "What more could we do?" They had the same conversation practically every night. He didn't understand why they even bothered. Evey must be dead by now. He was as heartbroken as Walden was, no matter what his brother might think, but he would have to face the fact sooner or later. It was unlikely that Greyback would have kept her alive for so long, no matter how curious he might be about her.

"We should call Jeanne," Walden announced matter-of-factly.

That was new. And certainly not a good idea. "You really have no clue how much trouble I'm in, do you? If she finds out I've turned you…" He shuddered at the thought. She may look frail, but Jeanne was more dangerous than anyone he'd ever met.

"She'll find out sooner or later," Walden pointed out.

"It can wait a few centuries as far as I'm concerned," Tony retorted. Didn't he understand that he was in danger as well? Jeanne might decide to kill Walden just to teach Tony a lesson. Or out of sheer spite. Or for fun.

Walden stopped pacing to face him. He hadn't shaved since he'd awoken as a vampire. His beard and hair were a mess. Tony didn't understand how their hair kept growing, now that they were dead. Then again, there were many things about vampires that were utterly unexplainable, at least from a purely biological point of view. He shifted his focus back to his brother.

"Are you going to make me beg?" Walden asked softly. "Do you have any idea what it's like? How useless I feel? I don't even know if she's alive!" Tony opened his mouth to say that he would have to consider the fact that she might indeed not be, but his brother forestalled him. "I know you think she's dead," he went on accusingly, eyes blazing, "but I won't quit until I know that for sure."

"What could Jeanne do about it, anyway? She's a vampire, same as us."

"She must have connections. It's her job to get information, isn't it? She managed to infiltrate Azkaban, and for all we know she played a part in the mass breakout. I would hate her for it, but it proves she can handle herself, at least. She's resourceful. She can help, Tony. I know she can."

Tony shook his head. "Even if she can, she's not likely to. Not when she finds out about you. Hell, we'd be lucky if she lets us live."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

Of course he was. He really should have ended up in Gryffindor, the fool. "Look, even if I agreed, we'd still have to invite her in. We can't have a conversation like that on the threshold and hope no one walks in on us. That's just not possible. She can only be invited in by the owner or a member of the permanent household. I doubt that we'll be considered permanent enough."

"Then we explain it all to Molly. We come clean." He said that as if it were the most evident thing in the world.

"Are you out of your mind? I'm already in trouble! If they find out I told anyone _else_ about them..." It was bad enough that he'd told Evey, no matter how… special… she was.

"Tony, it's _Molly_. She'll keep it to herself. You know she will."

Merlin, had his brains melted when he turned into a vampire? Or was it Evey's doing? "It doesn't matter whether she keeps it to herself or not," Tony said through gritted teeth. "It would only add insult to injury. We have nothing going for us, Wal. This won't be an argument. This will be Jeanne tearing us apart."

"That's not true, though," Walden murmured. "We have Evey." Tony frowned. What did he mean by that? "You may have squandered your only shot at creating an Ancient, but you made _her_ ," he explained. "I know she's not a proper vampire, but she can turn invisible. She's at least part Ancient, isn't she? She's something entirely new. Don't you think it might compensate for your transgression?"

Tony stared at him in bewilderment. "You'd just throw her to them like that? Do you have any idea what they might do to her, if they find out?" His brother made no reply. Actually, Tony had no clue himself, but he liked to be prepared for the worst. He hadn't known the other Ancients long enough to predict their reactions. They weren't bad people, not really, but… well, some of them seemed to have forgotten how humans were supposed to behave. "Fine," he grumbled after a moment of reflexion. Walden was right. He would have to face Jeanne eventually. The problem, he told his brother, was that the summoning thing worked only for the maker. He could _call_ for Jeanne, but there was no guarantee that she would show up, and no knowing _when_ she would. She was no witch, Tony reminded him. She couldn't simply Apparate in the yard.

"Just do it, alright? I'll fill Molly in while you do that." Walden was already at the door, walking with an air of determination.

Bracing himself, Tony called for his maker.

* * *

Molly had taken it all stoically, as he had known she would. She was clearly annoyed that they hadn't told anyone, but he had expected that as well. She seemed to understand why they hadn't, at least.

The three of them were sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea – well, Molly and Walden were. Tony sat across from them, brooding. He had called for Jeanne over an hour ago.

Walden had had in mind to ask for her help for a while now, but had kept it as a last resort solution, knowing how much trouble Tony would be in when she discovered what he'd done. He wasn't going anywhere with his search, however. Tony was right – the werewolves would never assist them in finding Greyback. Walden simply couldn't wait any longer. He could only hope that Jeanne would deign to make an appearance.

She did, half an hour later. He hadn't really expected her to come this very night, to tell the truth. She must have been close to their location, or perhaps she knew people who could Apparate. In any case, he was glad she was here, no matter how irate she might become in a minute.

Tony opened the door, Molly at his side. Walden stood some distance behind them.

Jeanne gave Molly a baleful, one-eyed glare before shifting her gaze to Tony. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded imperiously. "Who is she?" she went on before anyone could reply. "Another lover?" she sneered.

 _Lover?_ Walden thought. What was she going on about?

Apparently, Tony was as confused as Walden felt. "What?" his brother asked, scowling. "No, she's a friend. Jeanne, this is–"

Jeanne raised a hand sharply. "Don't bother. I don't care for the human's name. What do you want?"

Tony cleared his throat. "We need to talk," he muttered, eyes cast down. Walden didn't blame him; Jeanne was quite fierce when she was angry.

"Well, I don't have all night," Jeanne stated briskly. "Are you going to let me in?" she asked impatiently.

Tony gave Molly a sideways glance. "You may come in," Molly said coolly. Jeanne ignored her entirely as she made her way inside. She started to smile when she saw Walden, but froze a second later. Damn. He had been hoping to break it to her gently, but his pale skin – in contrast to his former tan – must have given him out, not to mention his fangs. He had Tony's ability to keep them out of sight whenever he wanted – he'd done it before – but he was still struggling with it on occasion.

" _Enfer et damnation!_ " she swore in a very unlady-like fashion. Before Walden could speak, she turned to Tony and slapped him hard enough that he fell to the floor.

Molly gasped but she had her wand out a moment later. Walden moved toward her and put his hand on her arm, gently but firmly. This was the last thing they needed right now. "Jeanne," he said calmly, in an attempt to appease the youthful-looking woman, "hear us out before you do anything you might regret. Please?" He couldn't help the edge of concern in his voice. Tony was heaving himself up gingerly, groaning.

"You dare address me, mongrel?" Jeanne spat at him acidly. Her eye flashed dangerously.

He gaped at her stupidly for a moment. Mongrel? This was worse than he had anticipated. Molly recovered faster than him. "Excuse me! I will _not_ tolerate that sort of language in my house!"

Jeanne shifted her attention to her, but Molly stood her ground firmly, meeting the Ancient's gaze. "Do you know how easily I could kill you, old woman?"

"Not as easily as you'd think, not with me here," Tony countered, placing himself in front of Molly. There was no mark on his cheek where the blow had hit him. Walden had rarely seen him looking so furious.

"Oh, is that so?" Jeanne said mockingly. "Are you going to defend her, like you did your lover?"

Tony scowled. "Why do you keep saying that? I don't have a lover, burn you!"

"Not anymore, you don't," his maker told him sweetly.

It must have struck Walden just an instant before it did his brother. The only woman he'd slept with since his escape from Azkaban was the one he'd met on his birthday. Natalie, Walden thought. Evey had told him about that episode. Tony stared at Jeanne blankly for a time, then Walden caught the exact moment when he realised what she was saying. His eyes widened in understanding, his jaw dropping slightly in an almost comical way. His fist clenched almost reflexively, to Walden's surprise – as far as he knew, Tony had never hit anyone in his life, let alone a woman.

Everyone was silent while his brother appeared to struggle internally for a minute or so, then Tony suddenly stormed out through the front door.


	38. A horrible decision, really

Jeanne frowned at the door Antonin had left wide open. A loud hoot broke the silence.

What had he been _thinking_? She had understood the problem the moment she laid eye on Walden. What a fool she had been! She should never have allowed Antonin to return to his former life. Never! She would pay dearly for that mistake.

She sat down on one of the plain chairs, fuming. They were going to fucking kill her for that crime – for it was a crime, the most grievous one she could imagine an Ancient committing. _Or worse_ , she thought in sudden panic, _they might kill_ him. Her only progeny, the only child she would ever have. She couldn't bear the thought. She'd been harsh to him because she was afraid, she realised. She already regretted hitting him.

"Why did you kill her?" Walden asked softly after a moment.

She glared at him indignantly. "I didn't kill the damn girl, you idiot!" Of course she bloody well hadn't. It was expressly forbidden – anything even remotely susceptible to be linked to the Ancients was prohibited. Besides, she cared little where the boy chose to stuff his… Well, what she meant was that she entertained no romantic feelings toward him. She wasn't jealous of the women he frequented. She was simply being protective of him, that was all. Like any good mother would be. "I had someone erase her memory, that's all. He told her too bloody much. He told her his real name! And the girl has a half-brother who is a wizard. You can see how that might prove dangerous." She huffed in annoyance. The nerve of the man, to accuse her as if she were the one who had committed a crime! Antonin was the one who had broken the rules, not her.

" _Quel foutoir_ ," she muttered crossly. She saw that Walden was about to tell her to calm down. "I know, I know. I understand, yes? I'm not made of wood, curse you. I understand _why_ he turned you. I just wish he hadn't." She grimaced. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn to think things through before you act, no matter the circumstances, no matter the urgency of the situation. You do realise he's ended our line, don't you?" she asked earnestly. She wasn't making a fuss for no reason, he had to see that. Hell, she wasn't being near hysterical just for the sake of it.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not an Ancient, am I?" he asked with a small frown.

"No, I daresay you are not, _mon pauvre chou_. But who knows exactly what you are? No ordinary mortal was ever turned by one of us."

"Right." Walden took a deep, unnecessary breath. Obviously, he wasn't yet used to the fact that he didn't breathe anymore. "Jeanne, we didn't call you for that. Well, not only that," he amended. _Oh, mon dieu_. What could possibly be worse than this? She steeled herself. She would _not_ slap him. He might not survive. Mere vampires were not quite as strong as the Ancients were. "My fiancée was kidnapped. We've been looking for her for over two months, in vain. I need your help, Jeanne."

Fiancée? She hadn't known he was engaged. Then again, at the risk of seeming heartless, the woman's disappearance was the least of her worries at present. She had to prepare for the upcoming meeting, to find a way to save Antonin's skin – and her own. And Walden's, if at all possible. She shrugged. "I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to." She rose from her seat.

"I thought you might say that," Walden said wryly. She narrowed her eye at him. He thought he knew her, did he? She sniffed, not bothering to reply. "But it'll be worth your time, I promise you." She arched an eyebrow. "She was bitten by a werewolf and survived."

Jeanne looked at him impassively. _So what?_ she thought derisively. She was well aware that women weren't supposed to survive a bite from one of the cursed beasts, but it was hardly interesting to her. She tried to tell him that, but he went on before she could open her mouth. "She was also bitten by Tony," he added with mock casualness.

She wished he would stop calling him that. It was such a plain nickname. 'Antonin' was much more distinguished, much more elegant. She blinked when she realised what he'd just said. No, she must have misheard that last part. "She can turn invisible?" she repeated. That was impossible.

Walden nodded. "And she regenerates almost instantly."

"That's…" She paused, considering. "Is she a vampire?" she asked dubiously.

"No. No fangs, no blood cravings. She can walk in daylight. Her skin is the same colour it's always been, and it doesn't feel cold to the touch."

Well, it might be worth looking into, but certainly not right now. She patted him on the shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner. "I'm afraid it will have to wait. I might consider it, if we survive the next couple of months," she said sourly.

"It _can't_ wait! Jeanne, Fenrir Greyback's got her. Have you heard of him? Do you have any–"

She threw him a sharp look. "Greyback?"

"He's the one who took her, yes."

 _Bon sang de bonsoir!_ A fucking Wolf. That changed everything. "This is... this is beyond me. I must take it higher up. Dealing with those… creatures..." She shook her head in disgust but made no mention of the Wolves out loud. She didn't think Antonin knew about them yet, let alone these two. "But it'll have to wait until the meeting, Walden." Another noble name. It had a nice ring to it. Why did they all insist on shortening their rightful names? _Concentre-toi, imbécile_ , she chided herself. "If I force them to attend another reunion before the planned one... It would make things even worse."

"Meeting? What meeting?"

"Our centennial meeting. On Halloween. Didn't Antonin mention it?" she asked with a frown. He spoke so freely to everyone, she had assumed the whole Order of the Phoenix would know about it by now. _Damn, how many people has he told?_ she thought with an internal groan.

"First I'm hearing of it," Walden said.

"Well, do make sure he remembers it. You'll need to attend as well, I suppose. But I must warn you... they may decide to have you executed. Both of you." _And myself_ , she added mentally. The Ancients were few as it was, but the offence was grievous.

Walden nodded, but he didn't look particularly happy at her concession. "It's in two months," he grumbled. "Are you sure you can't–"

"No, I cannot," she cut him off sharply. She was already thinking about the arguments she would present. "If Greyback is involved, it will hopefully make the others more amenable toward the other… matter." Yes, it might work. Find a scapegoat, divert the others until they forgot about Antonin's little… gaffe. "Well," she went on crisply, "I'm counting on you to remind him. He knows where and when. Formal dress code." She moved toward the door. "Oh, and do let him know I didn't harm that cute little mortal of his. I wouldn't want there to be any bad blood between us," she said wittily.

"Yeah, but wait. There's a small issue... he can't feed off me anymore. Do you know where–"

"For fuck's sake!" she yelled angrily. "Don't I have enough on my plate? Must I feed him myself? Sort this out on your own, burn you. Have the damned ginger serve as beverage, for all I care." It was her turn to storm off into the night.

* * *

"She's quite rude," Molly remarked as she closed the door behind the vampire. Thankfully, the woman hadn't awakened anyone when she'd shouted. If she'd disturbed Arthur's already shortened sleep, or Bill's…

"She's French," Walden pointed out.

Well, there was a lot to be said about Fleur, but at least her language was always correct. In Molly's presence, anyhow. "What was that about Antonin not being able to feed off you?" she enquired. "He's been drinking animal blood since you joined the Order."

Walden proceeded to explain that Antonin had only been drinking animal blood to keep up appearances, but in fact needed to drink human blood, preferably at the source, although rarely. There was a lot she had yet to discover, it seemed. Should she really keep this all to herself? She would reflect upon the matter when she'd had a proper night of rest.

She noticed that Walden looked as morose as he had when he'd knocked on her bedroom door a few hours earlier. "It seems that things are looking up at last," she said with all the cheerfulness she could muster – it was quite late, and her brief encounter with the foul-mouthed vampire had taken its toll on her. "And who knows," she added, holding back a yawn, "perhaps we'll even rescue Evey before that meeting she was going on about."

"Aye, but in what condition will we find her, if we do?" Walden murmured tiredly. He was staring longingly at the window. The sun would rise soon.

She couldn't think of a comforting reply.


	39. Hear me roar!

She was reading when Greyback walked into her cell – without bothering to ask permission, of course. She didn't spend much time on her own anymore, but she was grateful for a quiet moment once in a while. The Alpha had to ruin even that.

"What are you reading?" he asked her. As if he couldn't read the title on the cover.

" _The Eyes of the Overworld_ ," she replied politely. She realised with dawning apprehension that he had closed the curtain behind him.

"Ah, yes. A classic." He took a few more steps toward her, his towering height casting a long shadow on the bed. She closed the book with a snap. What did he want now? He was silent for a moment, studying her. It made her feel uncomfortable. Their last conversation, over a month ago – he really didn't spend much time in Asgard – had almost resulted in their mutual death. He'd literally thrown her out of his office, clearly to avoid tearing her to shreds in his rage. Which was why she was being polite now.

When he continued to stare at her wordlessly, she asked the first thing that came to her mind to break the heavy silence. "Why did you make it impossible to cast magic inside the place when you're a wizard yourself?" She'd visited every nook and cranny of the prison to find a spot where she could use magic, but it was useless.

He cocked his head slightly to the side, never taking his eyes off her, as if to get a better view. What the hell did he want? "I wasn't always a wizard," he explained eventually. What nonsense was that? You were either born a wizard, or you weren't. She was about to point it out to him when he went on. "I was a Squibb. My parents tried everything to have me accepted into a wizarding school, any of them, but they all said it was pointless. Coming from a Pure-blood family, my father took it hard, especially since I was an only child. He sent me to a Muggle boarding school in Poland, where I remained for years, only visiting home on rare occasions. That is where I met my wife. My parents severed all ties with me when they learned I was to marry a goy, and a Muggle one at that. I don't know what happened to them during the war – or afterward, if they survived."

She still couldn't fathom why he was telling her all these things about himself, about his past. No one else here seemed to know who he really was, who he had been, except perhaps Scabior. In any case, none of this explained why he could now use magic.

"It happened after I was bitten," he went on, as if he'd read her mind. Merlin, she hoped he couldn't do that. For all she knew, Wolves had that ability. "After I first transformed, to be exact." He shrugged. "I don't know how or why. It just happened. I'm the only wizard among them." And Antonin was the only wizard among the Ancients. Was it mere coincidence? Could it be why she'd reacted so unexpectedly to being bitten by them both? If only she could share these ideas with Walden and Tony; they might make sense of it all.

"What was her name?" she asked suddenly. "Your wife, I mean?"

He frowned at the abrupt change of topic. "Why do you want to know?"

Truth be told, she didn't care. She just liked to confuse him. "Yeah, nah, forget it. Just trying a new angle, you know, trying to be compassionate, to feel and show interest and sympathy. It's not working."

His face went blank. "I don't want your _sympathy_ , girl," he growled.

"Which is precisely why I wanted to experience the feeling," she replied with a sly grin.

She had hoped he would be pissed off and would leave her alone, but he surprised her by returning her smile. "Now, now, why such hostility? Isn't clear to you yet, _Engel_? We are not meant to be enemies. We are meant to be mates."

It was her turn to scowl. "Friends?" She had a bad feeling that was not what he meant.

He grinned wolfishly. Bloody hell. Not this again. "It makes perfect sense," he continued. "It's meant to be. Don't you see? That's why I was drawn to you, why I bit you, made you what you are."

He moved closer and sat on the bed. Evey retreated to the other end, as far away from him as she could. "If you think I'll let you anywhere near me, you're sorely mistaken."

He simply chuckled. "As if you could stop me." He was too fucking fast. Before she could even gasp, he had her pinned down under him.

She started to panic. She had been numb the first time, overwhelmed by grief and terror, unable to react, but not now. She would _not_ allow this again. She let her hatred, her revulsion fill her. Perhaps a sudden rush of adrenaline would render her strong enough to push him away. She soon realised it was useless; nothing would save her, but she simply couldn't stop struggling. She would _not_ –

She felt the muscles in her arms cramp brutally. Had she pulled a muscle in her effort? Her elbow joint suddenly popped with a loud, cracking noise. Fuck, he was going to tear her arm out. Oddly, she felt no pain. Had to be the shock. The pain would come later, she assumed.

But Greyback was now frozen in place, staring at her arm. She felt it happen in her other arm, and experienced a strain in her legs, as if they were being stretched. Greyback heaved himself off her in a hurry, but she barely noticed.

Her whole body was changing, her limbs elongating, her jaw widening, but it wasn't until she spotted the sleek brown fur sprouting out of her forearm that she realised what was happening.

She was turning into a werewolf.

* * *

The transformation seemed to last forever, or perhaps it was only an instant. She was paralysed with shock. She couldn't think clearly. Of all the things she'd done so far, this was truly the weirdest, most inconceivable–

Just as abruptly as it had started, it was over. She became aware that Greyback had gotten back to his feet and was gaping at her, looking nothing like his usual cocky self. From the bed, in her uncomfortable half-sitting, half-lying position, she was level with his head.

He shook his head after a moment and started to change. She had to act before he was fully transformed.

Without thinking, she gathered herself and lunged at him with a snarl. Her front… paws… hit him square in the chest, and they both went tumbling to the ground, rolling out of her cell and ripping the curtain away as they did. She ended up on top of him.

He was in werewolf form now, a huge, grey, distorted wolf with murderous yellow eyes. He was much bigger than werewolves were supposed to be – but then again, so was she.

Before he could attempt to remove her, some primal instinct made her reach for his throat. Her sharp teeth stopped just short of the flesh. Greyback went utterly still under her.

She became aware of several things at once. She could feel his heartbeat, she could _hear_ it. His heart was thudding in his chest remarkably fast. She could also smell him. There was a bitter, almost acidic aroma, and another cloying one that nearly made her gag. She wasn't sure what they meant. Her vision was much improved as well, although it didn't serve her much at the time being; it only gave her a clearer rendering of Greyback's furry neck.

She couldn't very well remain like that forever, could she? She would have to let go at some point and face the consequences of this unlikely episode. Just as she was about to release Greyback, however, she felt that more people were gathering in the corridor. _Good_ , she thought. _Let them see their almighty Alpha overpowered by a girl._ She would really do anything to undermine him. Even the impossible.

 _Alright, that should suffice_ , she decided after another minute. She let go of the hulking werewolf, ignored everyone, and walked into the cell opposite hers, where the curtain was still intact. She closed it with some difficulty, awkwardly pulling at it with her clawed paws. Now, to get back to her human form. Was it like turning invisible? Should she simply _will_ it to happen? Yes, apparently, that was the trick.

What truly astounded her – besides the blatant fact that she could transform into a werewolf – was that the process was absolutely painless. Accordingly, it was supposed to be excruciating. Well, she wasn't about to complain. And there was the fact that she had retained her ability to think and act rationally, as a human, not as a bloodthirsty beast. Was it something the Wolves could do?

She shook her head. This should not be the focus of her attention at present. What was Greyback going to do now?

After she'd draped herself in the bed sheet, she exited the cell cautiously. Her senses were back to normal. Greyback was gone, but the others were still around. Most of them looked stunned. When she turned to them, they all shifted their gaze to the ground as one. Alright, that was new. Was it because she had overcome the Alpha? Holy cow! Was _she_ in charge now? Would they obey her as they did Greyback? She could get out of here! She walked toward Jabbar but, as she advanced, they all scattered away like frightened sheep. _What the hell?_

Only Scabior remained behind. He appeared nervous, fidgeting the buttons of his shirt. She approached him carefully and kept some distance between them. She could tell he wanted to look her in the eyes, but his gaze kept shifting between her chin and her nose, never rising above.

"You've just signed your death warrant, girl," he muttered. She couldn't decide if he sounded angry or scared. Perhaps both. "You were no threat to him, not before, but this... He cannot allow this. He'll kill you as soon as he figures out how to get around that curse."

"Not if I figure it out first."


	40. Gods are fragile things

Scabior waited an hour before dragging himself to Fenrir's office. He didn't know what to make of what had happened earlier. He was well aware that the girl was special, but this, a female werewolf? This was beyond what his mind could cope with.

The Alpha had run off as soon as the girl was off of him. He'd literally fled. Scabior didn't know what to make of that, either.

As he neared the office door, he hesitated. Was it really prudent to talk to Fenrir now? Perhaps he should let a day or two pass. Perhaps the Alpha would be gone by then. He'd spent a lot of time outside during the summer, researching the girl situation. He'd been to Leipzig's library, which contained the best-documented werewolf section in the world, according to most scholars. Alas, it had all been a waste of time. There were absolutely no recorded cases of anything even remotely similar.

The door was closed. Scabior couldn't remember it being closed before. He took a deep breath and knocked twice, quietly. Fenrir must have heard him approach, anyway. No reply came, and Scabior waited another minute before turning away.

The door opened before he could take five steps. "Get in," Fenrir commanded in a low growl. He radiated danger. Scabior wondered if he would get out of the office alive.

He waited for the Alpha's gesture before taking a seat in the opposite chair. The men had tried, to no avail, to salvage the carpet, following last month's… torture session. It couldn't be called anything else. He had been taken aback when Fenrir announced he was going to harm the girl, announced it as if he were telling him he would take a stroll in the woods. He didn't know why it had perturbed him so much – he didn't care about her, not in the least – but the fact that the Alpha would resort to such methods was… disturbing. It was something Voldemort would do.

And… well, admittedly, she _was_ just a girl. His _babunia_ had been adamant that he must never, ever hurt a woman. It was low and despicable, she said. It was a sin – the old woman had been very religious. He felt sick at the thought of what Evey must have endured, and disturbed for feeling so.

He frowned slightly. He'd never thought about her that way, not by using her name. Well, it hardly mattered at this point.

"What did she tell you?" Fenrir asked without preamble. "I know you stayed behind."

Scabior shifted uncomfortably. "She didn't say much, boss." Now was not a good time to be too familiar. He kept his eyes on the ground instead of the desk, just to be safe. "Just the usual. That she would see you dead."

Fenrir snorted. "Like hell she will," he grumbled. "What did the others say?" he went on roughly.

That was the part Scabior dreaded the most. He could feel sweat dripping down his back. He must reek of fear and concern. He swallowed hard before answering. "They… um… well, that is…" He had to pause to take a deep breath. Better to get it out of the way. "The men defer to her like they do to you. They seem to think she's the Alpha now. Well, not exactly," he amended quickly. "I think they consider her like… your equal. Or your female counterpart. I don't know, boss. It's complicated. They don't know what to make of it and, frankly, neither do I." At least they weren't taking orders from the girl – she had tried that already, the little minx – and everyone was avoiding her now, because they didn't know how to behave around her anymore. Thankfully, she seemed to realise that and hadn't insisted. She wasn't as dumb as she looked. Or, more likely, she was just too nice. Burn her.

" _Unsinn!_ " Fenrir snarled. "She's a _girl_ , for fuck's sake. She can't be Alpha. She's not even part of the pack! Hell, she's not a proper werewolf! And my _equal_? That's ridiculous. Are they bloody stupid?" He exhaled furiously. "She caught me by surprise, that's all. How could I have expected her to turn into a damn werewolf? I would have overcome her easily. I _chose_ not to. What if I'd hurt her? I would have hurt myself in the process. There just wasn't any point. Don't they see that?" he demanded. "Bugger them. And _fuck_ her. _Ich habe es satt_ ," he added vehemently, rising from his seat so abruptly that his chair fell back. He turned his back on Scabior, staring out the window.

 _I've had enough._ Scabior was at a loss for words. He _chose_ not to overpower the girl? That didn't sound like Fenrir at all. He'd never seen him like that. He looked almost… helpless, for all his anger and frustration. This was bad. But what could he do?

"Get the fuck out," Fenrir muttered. Scabior was on his feet in an instant. "And you'd better make damn sure they remember who their Alpha is," he added as Scabior reached the door.

* * *

The girl was stronger than him. How was that even _possible_? Well, to be fair, nothing that had happened in the last couple of hours seemed possible. This was bad. He couldn't imagine a worst development to their already complicated situation.

In other circumstances, he would seek assistance among his own kind, but he couldn't let them know about Evangeline. He didn't trust any of them.

He was used to being accused of every single violent crime linked to a werewolf, but in reality, the attack perpetrated against the girl's family had been one of the few he'd actually committed. He never bit to kill, only to turn. Barca and his minions didn't particularly mind that the younger Wolves go on murder sprees, no matter what he claimed, but he did care about anything that might expose them to the world. The girl could be the source of all sorts of troubles, without proper supervision. And, of course, Fenrir would be held accountable if trouble arose.

And the rest of his pack… Bloody fools. A female Alpha! Now he had heard it all. It didn't matter. Scabior would make certain they behaved adequately around the girl, and that they didn't take orders from her – although the very idea was ludicrous. Taking orders from a girl. Honestly.

No, truly, he wasn't worried about that. They would come to their senses, once the initial shock had faded.

The most pressing matter was to come up with a method to sever their connection. He had no intention of disposing of her, not if he could avoid it, but he had to find a way around the obstacle. Leipzig's _Bibliothek_ had yielded no useful information. He wasn't sure where to look next. North America? Yes, perhaps. The Natives possessed werewolf-related lore that couldn't be found anywhere else. It was worth a try, in any case.

* * *

Evey remained in her cell for a few days, getting out only to fetch her meals. Everyone avoided her. Everyone seemed afraid of her, even Scabior, although he concealed it better than most.

Now she knew what it really felt like to be a freak.

Greyback had left the night after their latest… encounter. What a coward. But it was all to her advantage, of course. She was on her way to discredit him entirely in the eyes of his men, even if she couldn't appropriate the pack altogether. She had attempted a sortie that first day, but she'd been brought back by guards who had appeared extremely reluctant to touch her. She had toyed with them a bit when she realised that, half-hoping that they wouldn't dare to physically bar her way, but Scabior had finally intervened, dragging her back inside the perimeter. She had briefly considered turning into her new alter ego, to see how he would react to _that_ , but what was the point? Even if she made it out of the prison proper, she didn't trust herself to Apparate out of the woods – provided that she _could_ Apparate. She didn't know how far the ward against magic reached. For all she knew, it encompassed the whole reservation.

Perhaps she could turn into a werewolf, make her way out of the forest using her enhanced senses, find a phone and… no. If she was being honest with herself, she was afraid of transforming again. She had had perfect control of her wolf form that first time, but what if she didn't? What if she suddenly went berserk? She couldn't risk that. And besides, who would she call? They had no phones at the Headquarters. She could find a wizarding family who disposed of a chimney, sure, but what were the odds of finding such an opportune household in the vicinity?

 _No_ , she thought. _The time for escape has not come, not yet._

It would come soon, however. She could feel it.


	41. It makes sense, in an evil way

It was Jabbar who finally summoned enough courage to visit her. He stood a good distance away from the half-opened curtain, clearly hesitant and uncomfortable. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

Evey stared at him for a minute, wondering if he was going to say something. When he didn't, she sighed heavily. "Get in," she muttered.

He complied, walking slowly, cautiously, as if not to bother her. He stopped as soon as he was inside the cell, obviously reluctant to get any closer to her. He was still silent.

She was becoming annoyed. _He_ had come to _her_ , yet he seemed to expect her to do the talking. "Sit down," she told him curtly. Again, he complied without hesitation, taking a seat on a stool.

It was all very confusing. When she'd tried to get out a few days ago, she had ordered the guards to let her through, and at first they had complied, although with a perturbed look on their faces. When Scabior had come running and cursing, they had suddenly snapped out of their reverie and moved forward to bar the way.

Curious, she told Jabbar to stand on one foot and hop in place.

He did. His cheeks reddened in either embarrassment or anger – or both – but he did it, and he didn't stop until she asked him to. Then he just stood there.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Jabbar! Sit down, burn you. I'm sorry, alright? I just don't understand. Why is it working on you and not on the others?" She recounted what had happened the other day.

"Because your orders contradicted Fenrir's, love," he said softly. "He told us not to let you out under any circumstances, not unless he directly ordered it."

"Oh. Right. That makes sense. I guess." None of it made much sense, actually, but she was getting used to that. At least it explained why the guards had looked so conflicted. "Does that mean Greyback's word still prevails upon my own? Even though I beat him?" She had thought she'd figured how their hierarchy was structured, but apparently there were subtleties she wasn't yet aware of.

"Well... it doesn't really work like that," Jabbar said. He was speaking very quietly, as they all did when addressing Greyback. Croyd had explained it was a mark of respect, but Jabbar had laughed and admitted that they were just afraid speaking too loudly would anger him. "Whether it's you or him, or Scabior, we still have to obey you all. It's hard to tell who's more dominant between you and the Alpha, though. You're too… different. And I know you had the upper hand, that time, but you must have caught him by surprise. Not only you had just turned into a werewolf, in broad daylight, but people rarely attack him like that, you see." She noted that he didn't seem particularly shocked that Greyback had also transformed in the middle of the day. Maybe she had been wrong; maybe they did know he was something more than what he appeared to be.

"But people have to defeat him if they want to become Alpha in his stead, right? Hasn't anyone ever tried?"

Jabbar laughed. He was beginning to relax, she could tell. "Funny you should mention it, but there was in fact some madman who attempted to take over, last October. The man wasn't happy at learning Greyback would be siding with Voldemort again and challenged Fenrir to a fight to the death for leadership." He shook his head at the man's insanity. "Fenrir was reluctant to hurt him, but after letting the man carve a few strands of meat off of him, all the while asking him to give up, he didn't have much choice." He made a gesture indicating that Greyback had slit the man's throat. _Wait, did he say October?_ she thought suddenly. That was when she'd been awakened by the apparently phantom wounds manifesting on her skin! At least now she knew the truth of _that_.

"There's always a fool with delusions of grandeur who would attempt such folly, I suppose," Jabbar went on. "He was the first I actually witnessed, however. It's not a common occurrence." He paused to consider his next words. "To put it concretely for you, I'm about in the middle of the dominance scale, if you can call it that, everyone here included. Scabior is a tad bit above us all, but Fenrir... he's up through the roof and into the stratosphere." He scowled faintly. "It's like he's more than a mere werewolf." So he _didn't_ know. Perhaps Greyback had made up some lie or other to explain his ability to shift at all times. The question was, should she let them know? Well, she couldn't think of a reason not to.

"He _is_ more."

Jabbar's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

She explained what little she knew of the Wolves, of their attributes and abilities. She didn't mention how she knew as much as she did, however, and said nothing of the Ancients.

"Damn, I had no idea." Jabbar looked genuinely flabbergasted.

"There's a lot he hasn't told you," Evey went on. "It's amazing, really. You know next to nothing about the bloke and yet you follow him blindly."

"To be fair, we've never had any reason to question or doubt him. I mean, we're not too happy about the whole Voldemort business, but it's only a means to an end. We all know that."

"But how can you expect that sort of things to help?" It felt like the same argument all over again. She had already debated the matter with Croyd and several others afterward. "At the risk of repeating myself, violence is _not_ the answer. If the public sees you as Voldemort's allies, it will only make it worse. For you specifically, but also for all werewolves, across the country, possibly worldwide. It will most certainly _not_ help the 'cause', as you call it." Maybe it was _too_ obvious, and that was why they couldn't see it? "You need a leader who can help by discussing, negotiating, compromising… by being _diplomatic_. If you put Scabior in charge... But I already told him that. Wasting my breath on that one," she muttered sourly. "He's too attached to Greyback. He wouldn't act behind his back or openly defy him. Hell, he damn near worships the bloody man."

"For good reason," Jabbar pointed out. "V, he owes him. We all do. In most cases, it was a matter of taking us off the streets, away from the drugs, away from trouble in general. But some of us owe him their lives, Scabior included."

"I'm perfectly aware of that," she said with a small grimace. Greyback was a lot of things, but he was far from stupid. Everything he did was carefully thought through, and he must have been planning this for years, if not decades. "That's how he operates. Don't you see? He appears like a saviour, makes sure you feel indebted to him, and once you join the pack, you must obey him, do whatever he says. Once you're in, there's no way out." Clever, evil bastard.

"But he doesn't abuse his power," Jabbar protested. "We do obey him, but because we _choose_ to. He never asked anyone to do something that made them feel uncomfortable, and we don't work for Voldemort. He does, sure, but he would never ask that of _us_."

"But if he _did_ demand it of you, as your Alpha, would you be able to refuse him?" she asked softly.

Jabbar didn't seem to have an answer to that question.

Better to change the subject. He'd made an effort to visit her; she shouldn't bother him with these things, not now. "What happens if you look me in the eyes?" she wondered with unconcealed curiosity. "Will you explode or something?" It was making her feel uneasy and self-conscious that he wouldn't meet her eyes.

He shifted uncomfortably and grumbled something she didn't catch. He seemed to think her senses were as sharp as Greyback's, but they weren't. She knew that not drinking Wolfsbane on a monthly basis allowed Greyback's spawns to retain some of their werewolf abilities, to an extent, even in human form, but she possessed nothing of the sort while human. Her sense of smell was as dull as it had ever been, and the rest remained unchanged from the time prior to her transformation.

"Alright, alright. Never mind. I'll get used to it, I guess." She would have to, by the looks of it.

He shrugged, then smiled as if remembering something. "Anyway," he said with some of his usual cheerfulness, "my original intention was to tell you that you're welcome to eat with us in the dining hall. It might be a bit awkward at first, but I'm sure they'll get used to it. Eventually."


	42. Dansent les ombres du monde

The day had finally come. He'd never been so eager for Halloween in his life.

He had convinced himself that everything would be alright now, that the Ancients would assist them in rescuing Evey, that Tony wouldn't get into too much trouble for turning him. Evey had to be alive. He would know if she were dead, wouldn't he?

They'd had little luck in their search for her. The last werewolf he'd interrogated – a little more forcefully than usual, because he'd had a feeling the man knew more than he let on – had revealed that Greyback's lair was protected by a Fidelius Charm, among other things. Just as they'd assumed, but at least now they knew that Tony, or any other Ancient, might be able to find the place. Which was why he was so anxious to attend the bloody meeting.

Admittedly, he was also excited to meet the others. He had figured out who some of them were, just from their aliases, or thanks to Tony – who couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it. But he wouldn't let his enthusiasm get in the way, of course. The priority was to find Evey – and to survive the meeting.

It would take place in a château, in south-western France, near Bordeaux.

Travelling abroad via Apparition was heavily regulated, just like any other magical or Muggle means of transportation. And, as Tony was officially dead, and Walden was supposed to be, they opted for the less… legal… way. Walden had learned a lot about avoiding detection while Apparating when he was serving Voldemort, as his missions often took him out of the country.

They found themselves in French territory after Apparating at several different locations; thankfully none was too far out of their time zone, otherwise Walden would have fallen asleep. Illegal Apparition provided a complicated network of secure spots around the world, if you knew how to operate it properly. Once they were in France, they cast a simple – and quite illegal – spell on themselves so that the local authorities could not detect them, and then they were free to travel anywhere they wanted.

Molly had agreed to cover for them, although there was hardly any need for it. Nobody ever bothered to talk to them, and especially to him, since he was only awake at night. Molly had agreed to keep it all a secret unless the safety of the Order was somehow compromised. They would only be gone for a night, in any case. Luckily for Walden, the meeting would begin at midnight, local time. The Ancients seemed to enjoy these silly references, like the meeting taking place on Halloween, for instance. Jeanne hadn't said anything about a disguise, thankfully, although they'd had to find suits for the occasion. Molly had allowed Antonin to go back to the manor to fetch some old clothes. Tony was the same size he'd always been, but Molly had had to alter Walden's old jacket to fit him.

The château was a grand building, dating from somewhere around the 18th century, unless he was much mistaken. There was a double staircase in the front yard, and another inside, in the main hall, just like in a Disney movie. For all its grandeur, however, it was tastefully decorated, if somewhat opulent in style. Everything was white and gold, and all modern commodities blended pleasantly with the period furniture.

A slender, pretty man wearing a blood-red satin shirt invited them in and led them into the reception room, which must have been a ball room in its early days and was currently serving as it was originally intended: several men and women were dancing across the large space, on the varnished parquet floor. He recognised the music as Dmitri Shostakovich's _Waltz no. 2_ , which was being played on an old gramophone. Exactly what sort of meeting was this? Jeanne had made no mention of a ball or party.

Before he could ask his brother if they were in the right place, a youthful woman with heavy-lidded eyes accosted them.

"Antonin, my fellow countryman," she said with a small grin. She had a distinct Russian accent – unlike Tony, who spoke maybe ten words of his mother's original language and had in fact never set foot in Russia in his life.

"Evening, comrade," Tony replied pleasantly with the usual flirtatious smile he reserved for pretty women.

Walden couldn't tell who she was. He glanced at his brother, but the woman went on in a cheerful tone, looking straight into Tony's eyes and ignoring Walden entirely. "Dance with me." It sounded more like a command than a suggestion. She grabbed Tony's hand and pulled him after her. Tony spared Walden a resigned shrug before following the bouncy little woman.

He had to admit, he felt like an outsider even here. He wasn't the only 'regular' vampire around, he could tell – Tony said 'companions' were allowed, whatever that meant – but no one seemed to have noticed him, or perhaps they didn't care. There were about thirty people in the room, servants included. Among the other men, only two had the youthful face of the Ancients. Regular vampires weren't blessed with eternal youth, but were instead stuck at the age at which they'd died. _At least I'll never be forty_ , he thought with bitter amusement.

He frowned at one of the Ancients. Apparently, he'd been wrong to discard Vlad Dracula from the Ancients on grounds that it was too obvious; the moustache was the same as it appeared on most depictions of the stocky man. The hair had been cut short, however, and he – as everyone else in the room – wore modern clothes. But it was him, alright – the Dragon.

Before he could study the rest of them, Jeanne suddenly materialised at his side. "Look at you, so elegant," she said with a smile. "Are you sure this little girl of yours is worth all that trouble?" she added, placing a hand lightly on his arm.

"Quite sure," he replied, removing her hand smoothly.

Jeanne gave a throaty laugh. "You can't blame a girl for trying." Her laughter died abruptly when she spotted Tony, who was still waltzing with the Russian woman. " _Non mais, pour qui elle se prend, celle-là?_ " she muttered darkly.

"He's not going to remain chaste for the rest of… well, eternity… just to please you, you know," Walden pointed out.

Jeanne threw him a dirty look. "Nor do I expect him to. I don't _care_. But that _catin_ … She's awful. She's crazy."

"Who's she?"

Jeanne shook her head ruefully. "You might have made it this far, _mon cher_ , but I'm still not supposed to let you know these things." She was quiet for a moment. "On the other hand, if you discover it on your own…" She was grinning now. "Antonin tells me you're passionate about history. Let's put that knowledge to the test, shall we?" Walden nodded. "She was a Russian noble lady – although 'noble' hardly applies in this instance – who was accused of torturing to death over a hundred of her serfs. She was prosecuted for the murder of only a handful of her victims, however. She is now known as the Sadist, which is adequate." She gave him an expectant look.

Did they choose their nicknames themselves, or were those forced upon them? He couldn't think of a reason why anyone would want to be known as the Sadist. Also, the names seemed to change. He'd never heard of that one before. In any case, that was not exactly the sort of things he was fascinated about, but his brother had once offered him a book about the most notorious serial killers in history. That could only be one person – Darya Nikolayevna Saltykova, also called the Saltychikha. Jeanne smiled approvingly when he whispered the name. But why would anyone turn such a person into an immortal vampire? He turned the question to Jeanne, who shrugged.

"I've told you that the Queen scouts the world in search of the next potential candidates. She looks among the famous as well as the infamous, because she thinks people can change, that they can be made better, that they deserve a second chance. Which is why so many of us have a criminal record since she started to do the recruiting on her own," she went on with a smile.

"And… do they? Change, I mean. Because you clearly dislike the woman."

"Well, the fact is that the Queen only reports her finds to the next Ancient in line – then it's up to them to pick the one they wish to turn. With the Bloodmother's approval, of course. Darya was bitten by… the Dragon."

"That one was quite obvious, you know," Walden said with a smirk. "You can call him by name."

"I know, I know. Not sure what it was about him, but apparently he just _had_ to be one of us, I was told." She made a dismissive gesture. "He's not that bad, I suppose. Not much to look at, but he's cultivated, refined. Far from the barbarian image I had in mind. Not so his progeny. But to the Queen's credit, it's true that most of us have repented, and are trying to do some good. Darya is an exception," she added with blatant distaste.

"Now, what do we have here?" someone said from behind them. Walden turned to see a tall, flame-haired woman. Her accent was faintly Irish. "My daughter, it's been too long." She embraced Jeanne and kissed her on both cheeks, and Jeanne returned the woman's warm smile.

"Walden, this is my maker. The Witch."

The taller woman laughed softly. "Alice, dear. You know I'm not terribly fond of the name _he_ gave me." She glanced toward the second Ancient man, a solid bloke with a shaved head. Walden assumed it meant they were named by their makers, then.

"I thought Antonin was the first person with magical abilities among the Ancients," he said with a frown.

"Oh, but he is," Alice told him. "I am no witch. I didn't even know there _were_ real witches until I was turned. But enough about me." She grinned at Jeanne. "Tell me all about this new pet of yours, my darling daughter."

"He's not mine. Unfortunately," Jeanne said with a pout. "He came with Antonin."

"Really? I didn't know he was… one of those."

Walden's eyes widened when he realised what she meant. "Oh no, it's not like that… um… Alice. We're not…"

Jeanne was laughing now. "You have to admit, though, that he's not very picky about his conquests." She cocked her head toward Antonin and Darya. Alice had the same moue of distaste as her 'daughter' as she watched the two of them whirl around the room. Shostakovich had been replaced by Sviridov.

"Who is he, then?" Alice asked, eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious. "Why has Antonin brought him here? He can't just invite every vampire he meets!"

Jeanne raised her hands in a placating gesture. "It's nothing like that. Don't fret. All will be well."

Alice scowled. "What is that supposed to mean? What has he–" She was cut off as a resounding gong went off somewhere in the château. To Walden's newly enhanced hearing, it felt as if the gong had been hit right inside his skull.

A short, dark-skinned woman had entered the room. Her wavy black hair was woven into a thick, intricate braid decorated with various golden accessories. She wore a dark red gown that would not have been out of place in the 1920'. She didn't look like an Ancient – her handsome face was neither youthful nor old, and she didn't have the others' glossy pale skin – and yet she radiated power and majesty.

Everyone had paused in their conversations or activities to stare at her.

The Bloodmother had arrived.

It looked like the meeting was about to begin in earnest.


	43. That is the doom that we must deem

"You are not allowed to attend this part, not unless we call for you," Jeanne quickly muttered to Walden. Alice gave them both a calculating glance and Antonin was gazing at his brother, obviously wondering what to do.

Jeanne left Walden where he was and joined her progeny. The damned Russian madwoman was still holding on to him. Jeanne threw her a withering glare and, grinning maliciously, the Sadist finally withdrew. She winked at Antonin before departing. He gave her an uncertain smile in return. "What were you thinking, cavorting with that one?" Jeanne hissed at him.

"Cavorting? We were just dancing! Besides, she didn't give me much choice. Hey, Alice," he added to the only other woman who shared their blood.

Alice smiled thinly but made no reply. She obviously suspected that something was wrong. Well, she was quite right about that.

They made their way to the beautifully arranged room where the meeting would take place. There was a long mahogany table at its centre, and fourteen carved chairs. Several carafes containing freshly harvested human blood were placed on the table. The carafes and glasses were pure crystal, of course. It was Catalina's turn to host the meeting and the woman had a pronounced taste for everything expensive and overly luxurious. It was always pleasant to be her guest. The woman herself took a seat at one end of the table, as it was customary for the hostess to sit across from the Bloodmother. Jeanne and Alice sat with Antonin between them, as if to protect him from the others. If only they could.

She hadn't had time to bring Alice in the loop – or, more to the point, she had been reluctant to do so. The woman was affectionate and understanding enough, at least compared to some of the others, but even she couldn't condone what Antonin had done. This was going to be a lively debate.

* * *

Tony sat down gingerly besides Jeanne and saw that Alice had seated herself to his right. He'd had no contact with his maker since their conversation in early September and had no idea if she'd told anyone yet. From the wary look in Alice's eyes, however, he assumed she wasn't aware of the situation – and if she wasn't, no one else was. She was, after all, his grandmother, in a manner of speaking.

The blood contained in the sparkling carafe right in front of him was practically calling to him but he hesitated to pour himself a glass. No one else was drinking. He figured that the others had permanent sources of blood at their disposal. Finally, Jeanne nudged him in the ribs. "Drink, burn you. How long has it been?" It had been almost half a year, actually. "Now is not the time for you to go mad, my precious child. And do quit that fidgeting. It's making me nervous." He realised he'd been fiddling with his tie and made himself stop. He poured some blood in his glass and took a sip. His attempt at restraint was cut short as soon as the blood touched his lips, however. He drained the glass thirstily and was about to have a second when he noticed the Countess's unpleasant gaze fixed on him. She gave him a crooked smile, showing teeth, and he slowly put the carafe back where it had been. He would have another drink later.

These rare meetings were mostly intended to hear the Queen's reports on potential new recruits. The fact that he'd joined their ranks only a year and a half ago didn't matter – if they were lucky enough to find several people who were worthy of receiving the gift in such a short period of time, they would certainly welcome them. There was rarely more than one person on her list, however, and sometimes none at all.

As was the case today. The 20th century could have provided the Ancients with an incredible number of famous, brilliant women – or men, although women were always preferred to men, it seemed – but sadly, none of them had the spark. If it could be called that. He still had to feel it for himself, that feeling that told an Ancient that a potential mortal could be turned into one of them. Not that it would ever be of any use to him, of course.

He'd been worried for weeks about the judgement his fellows would pass, but now that he was here, he found himself… well, not composed, and certainly not ready for whatever would come, but at least he would know his fate soon. No more waiting. No more wondering if they would kill him slowly or quickly, or if they would start with Walden and force him to watch.

"Well, let's begin, then," their hostess spoke in crisp tones. Her English was tolerable at best, the Spanish accent heavy. "I believe you're all aware that Gorgo came to us empty-handed." There was no trace of accusation in her tone, but rather a resigned disappointment. There were a few nods and murmurs of affirmation. "Then I think we should give the floor to Jeanne, who sent ahead a last-minute request that she would address us before we discuss anything else." That made them frown. This was probably not a common occurrence. Even Alice turned to gaze at her progeny, obliviously wondering what had happened – and why she hadn't been forewarned. Only the Bloodmother seemed to retain her usual poise, patiently waiting for events to unfold, as she had done for the last five millennia, give or take a year.

Jeanne rose smoothly from her chair. Even standing she was barely taller than he was. She spoke quietly but firmly. "I'm afraid I must relay dire news. A grave mistake has been made, and I can only request, in all humility, that you allow me to explain the situation in its entirety before judging." She was quite good at this. He wondered idly if she'd learnt the speech beforehand or was improvising it on the spot. She laid a hand on his shoulder before continuing. "My progeny has turned his brother into a vampire, and it was brought to my attention that the man was not Ancient material." Before anyone could speak – not that anyone looked able to; most of them appeared horrified, mouths hanging open – Jeanne went on. "You may have seen him earlier. He's the hot one with the missing forearm," she said with her usual tact. That was all she had time to say before the storm finally erupted.

"Shame!" a woman shouted; he wasn't certain which one.

"Disgrace!" Catalina yelled. "He must be punished for this outrage! Exiled, or put to death, the true death! I call for–"

"Oh, do shut up, ye bleedin' pox," Alice growled at her. "Let the girl talk, for God's sake." Tony almost smiled at her – almost. That would have been a mistake, he could tell.

They were all trying to speak, and as a result no words could be distinguished in the cacophony. The Bloodmother remained perfectly still. Nothing showed on her ageless face. She raised her hand and everyone fell silent at once. Without a word, she gestured for Jeanne to continue.

Jeanne nodded graciously. "Thank you, Mother." She turned to the rest of them. "I understand your reaction. It is not unlike my own upon discovering the matter. But who here has witnessed the death of a loved one, post-transformation?" There were no replies. "No one. None of you – none of us – have ever been placed in that situation."

"For good reason," the Countess snarled. She must have been the one who shouted earlier. "Fledglings are never allowed anywhere _near_ their kin after they're turned. Did you mention that to him? Or are you also responsible for that _mistake_?"

"An exception was made because of his status. He is a wizard, as you all know, and I knew therefore that his family must be aware of the existence of vampires. I thought it would be no trouble."

"I seconded that decision," Gorgo murmured. "I have always been in favour of allowing the blood and kin to be told, and I–"

"You fools!" This was the Asp. "How was this done without our consent? A vote should have been taken, just like when Jeanne pleaded for him to be turned." She'd voted against him, Jeanne had told him. It had been a close call, in fact – seven in favour and five against. The Bloodmother took no part in these votes, although she could deny a request altogether.

"The Mother sanctioned this, Cleo," Jeanne replied acidly. She was losing countenance; her hand, still on his shoulder, was balled into a fist. "I didn't act behind anyone's back. I was told there was no need for a vote on the matter."

Cleopatra, who had once believed herself the incarnation of a goddess – that was the name she had wanted to take for herself, but the Bloodmother had decided otherwise – turned to the woman who had ultimately transcended her but received only a cold stare in return. As if Jeanne would be stupid enough to claim the Mother's assent in her presence if it were not true. The Asp recoiled slightly under that gaze.

"That is not the point," Catalina said. "What is done is done. Now we must discuss the consequences of his terrible crime." She glared at Tony. "Do you realise what you've done, _chico_? You have ended your line. You have–"

Of course he bloody well knew that. He was also aware that he was the youngest – by far – in the room, but that didn't mean she had to address him as if he were a child, and a retarded one at that. He cut her off before Jeanne could speak. "I know what I did, alright?" he said harshly. Alice gave him a warning glance. "But you know what? I'd do it again." He couldn't have said a worse thing, but at that moment he knew it was the truth, plain and simple. He didn't regret it, and he would do it again without hesitation.

That brought out curses from some of the others and puzzled stares from the rest. Jeanne had taken her head in her hands. He expected the Mother to demand silence once more, but she appeared transfixed by Tony. Her gaze seemed to pierce his soul and he could only stare back as if hypnotised.

It was Alice who finally called for silence, shouting in what he assumed was Gaelic. "I think that we should first consider the fact that no mere mortal was ever turned by one of us before. We should at least find out the effects the transformation had on the lad, before we shout the air apart. May we bring Antonin's brother in for interrogation, Mother?"

The original vampire, the maker of all, was silent for a long moment and everyone waited quietly for her answer. Then she spoke, and this was the first time that Tony heard her voice. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but what came out was a voice like any other, deep and slightly accented, although it seemed to hold all the power in the world. It was a voice you wouldn't dream of disobeying. "Bring him forth," she said simply, addressing Tony.


	44. A girl worth fighting for

Walden stood staring gloomily at some abstract painting when Tony finally came out of the room. To be fair, it couldn't have been more than half an hour since the meeting had started, but he was impatient. They couldn't afford to lose any more _time_ , for fuck's sake. What was taking so long? If they'd decided to kill them, let them do it already. Walden certainly wouldn't go down without a fight.

His brother signalled for him to follow inside. _At last_ , Walden thought. Tony didn't look like someone who'd just been sentenced to death; that was something.

When he walked in, thirteen pair of eyes – well, twelve and a half – looked up in unison. Jeanne was the only one standing, and she gestured for him to stay where he was. Tony stopped beside him after closing the door behind them. Some of the Ancients were clearly angry, but the others appeared mostly intrigued.

"Everyone, this is Walden," Jeanne introduced him. "He is not Antonin's blood brother, but his only living family nonetheless."

"They're not even blood kin?" a fiery-haired woman exclaimed, astonishment plain on her delicate face. "This is–"

"He _is_ my brother, alright?" Tony interrupted her. "Give us a break, Cat. I get that you're pissed off, but just shut up and listen, for Merlin's sake. There's more at stake than you know."

"What do you mean by that, blood of my blood?" the tall, bald man Walden had spotted earlier demanded calmly.

He heard Jeanne mutter in French. " _Mais tais-toi, bon dieu. Tu ne fais qu'empirer les choses_."

Walden didn't know whether Tony was really making matters worse but he figured now would be a good time to try to diffuse the tension in the room. "What he means, sir," – he still had no idea who the man was – "is that there's more to this… tricky situation… than first meets the eye." When no one said anything, he went on. "But first, I'm sure you'd like to know what he's turned me into." The man nodded, as did several others. "I'm afraid I'm a common vampire, for the most part. I sleep during the day, I feed on animal blood, sunlight is lethal to me… Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that I can retract my fangs at will." He smiled tentatively. "That's not much, granted."

The only person who smiled back was a slender woman of medium height, with wavy, dark brown hair that fell well below her shoulders. "Can you turn invisible?" she asked him softly.

"No, I cannot, ma'am," he replied politely. That made her chuckle, for some reason.

"That is disappointing," the tall man said ruefully. "Most disappointing indeed." He was seated beside Alice, who put a hand on his arm.

"Enough of this useless banter! He's a plain vampire, and the fledgling fucked up. I think we can all agree on that, at least." The woman who'd spoken was rather tall, with short white hair that contrasted with her youthful face. Her skin had the tint of someone who must have been very dark-skinned, before becoming a vampire. She had a crisp London accent. No one contradicted her, so she continued. "Tell us, handsome, what else is going on? We're dying to know." She giggled at her little joke, but no one else reacted to it.

Walden glanced at Tony then looked toward Jeanne. She nodded and sat back down on her chair. She would let him explain. Good. It took him some time to recount Evey's story – he had to give them some context. When he first mentioned Greyback, as he related the attack perpetrated against the Kanes, there was a collective gasp around the table.

" _The_ Greyback?" an Asian woman asked. Chinese, Walden thought. He wondered who she was.

"Yes, the Wolf," Jeanne replied glumly. "The one who calls himself Fenrir."

"Just let him finish, Ching," Alice chided the Chinese woman.

Ching Shih, the pirate lady? Damn. He'd always loved pirate tales as a kid. He hoped he would get an opportunity to talk to them all, when this was over.

"Actually, now might be a good time to mention the Wolves," Jeanne muttered. "I haven't briefed them yet."

She proceeded to explain that the Wolves – those who were called Elders in the children's books – were immortal werewolves with special abilities. They were, in essence, the werewolf equivalent of the Ancients. Walden had already figured out as much. It explained why Jeanne had appeared so agitated when he uttered the werewolf's name last September. When she was done, Jeanne allowed Walden to pursue his story. He kept it short and to the point.

There followed a moment of complete silence as everyone contemplated the situation. "This girl, your fiancée, she can't actually turn into a werewolf, can she?" Alice asked.

"No, she can't. And she has no ability that is specific to werewolves – although her rapid regeneration existed before Tony bit her, so we must assume she got that from Greyback."

"Well, she does have an incredible metabolism," Tony pointed out.

"And she can turn invisible at will? For unlimited periods of time?" Alice asked again, ignoring Tony's remark.

"I don't know how long she can remain invisible. She didn't do it very often," Walden admitted.

"This girl could be your only shot at redeeming yourself, lad," the woman with the London accent told Antonin. "She doesn't have fangs, so it's unlikely that she can turn people into vampires, Ancient or not – she's not one herself, from what your not-blood brother tells us – but if she can procreate…"

The words hung heavily in the air. Unlike regular vampires, none of the Ancients could bear children, Walden knew. He'd considered the fact; he'd known they would consider it themselves. He had no idea whether Evey could have children, of course, no more than she did. But until they knew for certain, this was their best chance at rescuing her. If there was even the slightest possibility that she could bear children and transmit the ability… This could change everything, for the Ancients. They couldn't pass up the chance. They would _have_ to rescue her.

"But you tell us that she was abducted in June. How do you know she's even alive?" Darya asked bluntly.

"I don't," Walden murmured. "I can only hope that she is. That Greyback realised she was special and kept her alive and unharmed to… I don't know, study her or something. I know the reputation he's made for himself, but he's not a brainless savage. I hope he's curious about her and is trying to figure her out." He also hoped Evey hadn't driven the man mad by mouthing off constantly. The werewolf could become quite unpredictable when angry.

"We must help them find the girl," the dignified woman with the dark, wavy hair declared eventually.

"I agree." That was Alice.

"Of course you do, you would do anything to protect your progeny," the woman Tony had called Cat retorted. "But even if the girl can bear children, I still think the fledgling should be punished. And we have no use for the mongrel brother," she added disdainfully.

He was tired of being called that. "And if you get rid of me, which one of you will procreate with her?" he asked wryly. "As far as I know, I'm the closest thing to a fertile male Ancient you've got."

"He's right, Cat," the tall man interjected before the flame-haired woman could respond. "This is our only hope at restoring our line."

"And if it works out as we hope, it changes everything. For all of us," Jeanne told them. "There may be others like this girl. A chance for us to vastly increase our numbers."

That, he hadn't considered. He supposed there may be others, but that was of no concern to him. They could discuss the matter further at a later date. Before he could move on to actually planning a rescue, however, he realised they were going to debate this at length. "But she's been polluted by the Wolf," Cat said. Damn, why was she so intent on messing things up for them? Was there bad blood between her and Jeanne, or Alice?

"She has a point," the Dragon conceded.

"What I propose," Alice said, "is that we find the girl first _then_ decide what should be done about my progeny. We must see her for ourselves, study her and estimate how much of her was contaminated by Greyback. Only then could a fair judgement be passed; only then may we decide if the right balances the wrong." She cocked her head toward Walden. "And of course, we must do the same regarding this one."

"I'd be more than happy to examine the lad," the Londoner said with a leer. "That's easy enough. But how exactly are we supposed to _find_ the bloody girl? Does anyone know where she is, where the Wolf has established his lair?" she went on.

"I'll take care of that," Jeanne replied. "Give me a few days. I'll root the damned beast out."

"You will not find him, my child." The Bloodmother spoke in a low voice, but was easily heard from across the room. Everyone had fallen dead silent when she opened her mouth. "Our counterparts have tricks to help conceal themselves, even from us. And Greyback is a skilled wizard, with sinister acquaintances."

It seemed no one was daring to speak in the silence that followed her ominous statement, so Walden cleared his throat. "There must be a way," he said, despair in his voice. There were so close…

"Oh, there is indeed." Her black eyes met his and he shuddered involuntarily. "We must convene a meeting with the Wolves."

* * *

Walden was told to leave the room once it had been decided that a meeting would be arranged between Ancients and Wolves to discuss Evey's safe return. He had to wait another hour before Tony joined him outside with Jeanne and Alice.

"The Mother will attempt to contact the Wolves' leader – apparently, _he's_ the one they call the Elder," Tony said.

"Indeed, although we've had no dealings with him that I know of since I've been turned," Jeanne explained.

Alice nodded. "I believe the Mother and her… counterpart… have a history, but nobody knows exactly what happened between the two of them. Imhotep says he never met the man, either, and he's never dared ask about him." Imhotep. That had to be the tall man, the third male Ancient – or, more accurately, the first. According to history, he had been a high-ranking official during the reign of the Pharaoh Djoser, sometime during the 27th century BCE. He was an architect and a high priest of the sun god, Ra. According to myth and legend, however, he was almost a god himself.

Walden was trying to digest that new piece of information when he suddenly remembered that was not what he was supposed to be thinking about. _Focus, burn you._

"Will the Elder turn up before the sun rises, or do you think I should find a place to sleep?" he asked the others.

Alice let out a dry laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't expect him any time soon, lad. There will be a lot of talking before they even agree to meet, you can be certain. And I'm not even sure if the Mother knows how to reach him – or if he will agree to talk in the first place."

Bloody hell. "Can't we help? We're wizards. Surely there's–"

"Walden, you must be patient," Jeanne told him gently, far from her usual brisk manner. "The Mother is old, and what you consider a long time is only the blink of an eye to her. You must not interfere, you must not try to rush things. You're lucky enough to be alive – and that no one decided that you should be dissected." Alice nodded in agreement and Tony shrugged helplessly.

Brilliant. More waiting. He wasn't sure how much more of that he could take.


	45. Thus is agreement made

He felt Jeanne summoning him like a physical pull drawing him to his maker. He could tell exactly where she was – right outside the Burrow. Thankfully, she'd had the presence of mind not to simply barge inside.

It had been over three weeks since they'd met in France. Walden was so anxious that Tony was actually glad for the sunrise, sometimes counting the minutes until his brother would finally fall asleep. He was getting out of control, still slipping away at night to look for clues and – Tony suspected – using illegal curses to obtain information from unwary werewolves. It led him nowhere, of course, but he didn't let that stop him. He would go mad, if Evey wasn't found soon. At this point, Tony didn't think it even mattered if she were alive or dead.

Jeanne was also sensible enough to come during day time, when Walden was slumbering and most everyone was out for work – all except Molly. Tony walked in the kitchen and cleared his throat so that Molly wouldn't have a heart attack. She turned to him, frowning. "Jeanne's here," he told her. "Do you mind if she comes upstairs so we can talk?"

Molly sighed. "More secrets?"

"No. Well, that is, yes, but it's not very important." That had to be the biggest lie he'd ever uttered in her presence and he regretted it as soon as he said it. "You know what? You're right. This concerns Evey, and she's as important to you as she is to us." He wasn't certain Jeanne would see it that way, but never mind that now.

He opened the front door a moment later and his maker scowled at him. "Took your sweet time." She entered without waiting for an invitation. Well, she didn't need one, not now that Molly had accepted her the first time. One of the Weasleys would have to formally rescind the invitation to keep Jeanne out at this point.

Jeanne grimaced when she spotted Molly. " _Encore la rouquine_ ," she muttered sourly. She took a seat and gestured for Tony to join her. Molly sat across from them and Jeanne ignored her so ostensibly that she might as well have glared at her. "A meeting has been arranged," she announced without preamble. "It will take place in four days, in a neutral location. At night," she added. "The Mother insisted upon it. Walden will be allowed to attend."

"Where?" Tony asked. "France?"

Jeanne shook her head. "No, it will be held here, in England. At Stonehenge."

Tony stared at her, puzzled. "The area is heavily restricted because of the masses of tourists. How is that an appropriate location to hold any sort of meeting?" Honestly, whose brilliant idea was _that_?

Jeanne laughed, her delicate nose crinkling prettily. "I have connections, Antonin. We all do. The place will be empty of tourists and guards, I assure you. And it's more than appropriate – it's perfect. The magic there, it's older than any of us, even the Mother. A church's consecrated ground is of no interest to us, but Stonehenge is different."

Well, that didn't tell him much. There was always much speculation surrounding the ancient stones, but nothing of import had ever happened there that Tony knew about. But hey, who was he to contradict the Bloodmother? If she thought they should meet there, they would – and not a moment too soon.

* * *

"I must warn you," Jeanne whispered to Antonin and Walden, "it would be better if you remained silent unless someone addresses you directly." She met Walden's eyes. "No matter how much you may disagree with what is being said."

Alice was with them, looking oddly worried. What could she be worried about? The Elder wasn't even going to attend the meeting, only some of his puppets, while all Ancients would be present. The Wolves were badly outnumbered. It was a wonder they had even agreed to meet in these conditions.

Malkoran – that was the Elder's name, apparently – hadn't deigned to respond to the Mother's demand that they meet. She had therefore decided to call his Wolves instead, and after long and strenuous negotiations, they had agreed to gather at Stonehenge. The few who had answered the invitation were those who despised Greyback. There were seven of them. Jeanne had done extensive research to discover precisely who they were, of course. It was her job.

They were the last to arrive, as instructed. She saw that most of the Wolves were sitting on the ancient stones, or leaning against them, while the vampires stood rigidly on the other side of the large circle, arms crossed. No one was talking.

The Mother alone sat in a comfortable chair, in the midst of all, unperturbed. She rose from her seat with an eerie grace as Jeanne entered the stone circle and gestured for them to stand at her side.

The Wolves had risen as well. They didn't look particularly concerned, despite being outnumbered two to one. One of the werewolves moved forward, a tall, clean-shaven man with a commanding air. William I, commonly dubbed the Conqueror. Among his kind, he was known as Razorteeth. Jeanne assumed he was in charge. "Mother," he began politely, "it is an honour to make your acquaintance at last." He bowed his head slightly. "You told us that one of your own was being held captive by Greyback – and yet I see that all of your children are present this night, including a new Ancient, if I'm not mistaken. And this one," he pointed to Walden, "is a simple vampire, it seems."

"That is correct," the Bloodmother replied quietly. "The Wizard joined our ranks almost two years ago. I assumed you would already know of this. Malkoran is usually better informed." She made no mention of Walden.

Another Wolf stepped forward, a red-haired man with an impressive beard. That had to be the Viking bloke, Erik Thorvaldsson. "Malkoran concerns himself little with the world these days. In fact, he has not been seen or heard from in years, Mother."

"I see," the Bloodmother said dismissively. "The matter is quite simple: we demand that the girl be released forthwith. She belongs to us." She had already explained the situation before arranging a formal meeting, although not all the facts had been revealed, obviously.

"But who _is_ she?" one of the other Wolves asked, the one they called Moonsinger. He seemed to be in his nineties, which made him easy to identify. Ramesses II. Jeanne knew that, unlike the Ancients, the Wolves kept the appearance they'd had when they were turned; no eternal youth for them. As to why anyone would bite a decrepit old man, even one as distinguished as the one-time Pharaoh, she couldn't begin to imagine. "Whiptail here visited Greyback's lair only a few months past," he went on, indicating one of his fellows, "and he thought he smelled something odd, but it certainly was no Ancient."

"The girl is no Ancient," the Bloodmother admitted, "but she belongs to us nonetheless," she repeated firmly. "She was bitten by one of us and possesses an ability that is entirely ours."

"But you also said that the cub bit her," Razorteeth insisted. "Doesn't that make her one of _us_? She is bound to Greyback by blood, at least as much as she is to your progeny."

"Which one are you, again?" Darya wondered innocently. "Cottontail?" The Wolf glared at her. "She's a _girl_ , you idiot. Since when do you folks take girls in?" _That one should never be allowed to talk_ , Jeanne thought in annoyance. Making them angry would serve no purpose. Hell, they were on the same side. Everyone here wanted to see that Greyback reaped what he had sowed.

"If I may, Mother?" Gorgo asked softly. The Bloodmother nodded. Gorgo held herself as she must have when she stood at her husband's side, like the Queen she was and always had been. "The girl doesn't 'belong' to anyone. She is a person, not a good to be sold at market," she told them all chidingly.

Alice took a step forward. "The Queen is correct. The facts are as follow, gentlemen: the girl was taken against her will and is currently held captive – at least we hope she is. Greyback may have already killed her." She surveyed the Wolves with hard eyes. "And may I remind you that Greyback _bit_ her, regardless of the rule that binds us all, which states that we must maintain secrecy at all times. I find that messily murdering an entire family and biting a witch is not particularly… discreet."

"And let's not forget the fact that Greyback kept her a secret from _you_ ," Jeanne added. That should increase their distrust of the werewolf.

"Should he even be allowed to consort with warlocks as he does?" Alice went on. "The whole wizarding world knows his name. If he is captured, you could be discovered – and bring us down with you."

"I hereby formally request that Greyback be brought before us and tried for his actions," the Ripper declared suddenly. Jeanne winced, half-expecting the Bloodmother to lash out, but she merely nodded in silent assent. When no one spoke, the Londoner bore on. "He threatens us all and must be arrested before he can cause more damage." It annoyed Jeanne that she hadn't yet uncovered the Ripper's identity. It was rumoured that even Catalina, who had turned her, didn't know her true name.

"Look, lady, we can't deny that he's over the line," the one called Blackstripes said, "but I've never heard of anyone being judged for anything of the sort." He paused, eyeing her with narrowed eyes. "It's especially funny coming from you, Miss Ripper," he went on with a broad grin.

"Any crime I may or may not have committed was perpetrated before my ascent," the Ripper retorted crisply. The 'ascent' was how the Ancients sometimes referred to their transformation.

Razorteeth raised his hands in a placating gesture. "What I believe my fellow is trying to say is that we don't have the authority to proceed to a formal arrest or judgement," he clarified, throwing a warning glance in Blackstripes's direction.

"If Malkoran refuses to take part, what choice do we have?" Alice asked pointedly.

"It's not as easy as you think. We have no hold on Greyback, no way to make him obey. That fancy summoning power you people got, we don't have it. Even Goldeneyes can't make him do anything." Blackstripes hesitated for a moment. "Not sure even old Mal could."

The Viking rolled his eyes in irritation. "You want the girl, yes? Can't we leave it at that?"

"Drop the charges against Greyback and let you deal with him as you see fit provided that the girl is returned to us in pristine condition?" Alice asked with an arched eyebrow. "Yes, I suppose we could agree to that."

"Don't be a fool, woman," the man formerly known as Hernán Cortés spat out. "We have no way of knowing in what _condition_ the damned girl might be. We'll return her to you, aye, but you'll have to make do with just that. There's nothing any of us can do against Greyback, no matter what he might have done to her." Demonslayer was glaring at them all in turn. "And no matter how much we might want to," Cortés added sourly.

"Then let us deal with him directly. _We_ can handle him," Darya said grimly.

"You expect us to reveal his location to you?" Cortés asked as if she'd gone mad. "We are not traitors, burn you!"

"Regardless of his actions, Greyback is still one of us," Moonsinger explained calmly. "I propose that we visit his current place of residence. Three of us will go. If he is there, we will attempt to negotiate with him. If that proves vain, we will take the girl by force. If he is absent, we will bring the girl back to you and deal with Greyback later."

"Agreed. We must handle Greyback on our own. He is of no concern to you. You should be glad that the girl is left to you without a fight, given her mixed blood," Cortés told them haughtily.

"Then so be it," the Bloodmother announced.

Razorteeth bowed his head to her once more. "We will contact you again as soon as it is done."

 _That sounds reasonable enough_ , Jeanne thought. She was surprised at how easily they had come to an agreement. Although they had no way of knowing what would actually happen when the Wolves entered Greyback's lair. What if the girl was there, alive, and they decided that they should keep her after all? There would be nothing the Ancients could do short of starting a war. Jeanne shuddered at the thought. No such thing had ever occurred. Whatever had passed between the Mother and Malkoran, she had not allowed it to influence their (almost inexistent) relation with the Wolves. Alice seemed to have the same thought, and she could see the worry in Antonin's eyes. Walden simply looked determined. He was probably considering the best way to destroy the Wolves, should they renege on their word.

The girl had better be worth the trouble.


	46. Stealing implies ownership

She'd quickly realised that playing basketball – or any sport or game, really – with the others would be cheating. They always let her win.

So now she just sat on a bench and watched them. Jabbar and the others were playing against the kids and everyone was having a great time.

They all stopped suddenly, listening to something she couldn't make out. Heads turned toward the main gate, and Evey followed their gaze. A big, muddy four-wheeler was parked just outside the entrance, and three men were getting out of it.

If they'd come this close, they must be able to see through whatever charms and wards concealed the place. She knew there were some wolves, pack members all, who lived outside of the prison and visited once in a while, but the others were watching the visitors with narrowed eyes, obviously suspicious. Scabior wasn't around, so Evey decided to meet the newcomers as they walked inside the perimeter.

One of them, a tall, imposing man with a bushy black beard, grinned at her. "Miss Kane?"

"I'm the only woman around, so you can't really get it wrong," she replied blandly. How did he know her name? "Who are you?"

"I'm Teddy," he said with another grin.

Before he could introduce his fellows – if that was his intention – Scabior stepped out of the main building. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked them roughly. "Greyback's not here."

The tall man – Teddy – shrugged his massive shoulders. "Doesn't matter, lad. We're here to get the girl." He turned to her once more. "To rescue the damsel in distress, as it were."

Scabior moved closer to her. "They're… like Fenrir," he whispered to her. Wolves? Had Greyback finally revealed her existence to them, or had they found out on their own somehow? "That one," Scabior went on, indicating a short, pale man with greying hair, "is Demonslayer. Hernán Cortés. I've seen him here before. I don't know the other two."

Evey looked up at the large man with the black beard. "I guess that makes you Edward Teach." It wasn't really a question.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but it was Cortés who spoke. "How do you know that?" He seemed irritated.

"Greyback told me all about you," she explained matter-of-factly. "Your identities, your nicknames." It was only partially true – he'd only named a few – but it should finish him off for good. If they couldn't trust him with their secret…

Cortés muttered darkly, too low for her to hear. The last man had to be Miyamoto Musashi, judging by his appearance. He remained silent, his face impassive, studying her.

Teach shook his head slowly. "Damned cub. What the hell was he thinking?" He sighed. "Well, nothing we can do about it now. How about we proceed to getting you out of here, sweetheart?" he asked Evey with a bright smile.

"You can't do that," Scabior growled, eyes on the ground. "She's not yours to take."

Teach let out a booming laugh. "And who's going to stop us, boy? You and that rabble over there?" He snorted. "You can't even look me in the eyes. How're you going to fight me, if you can't see me?"

Scabior raised his head and stared unblinkingly into the former pirate's dark eyes. "It's not _your_ gaze I'm avoiding, you twat," he said fiercely.

That brought Teach up short. He blinked, then frowned at Evey. It was her turn to grin. "I know, right?"

"You submit yourself to a _woman_?" Cortés asked Scabior incredulously.

"In the end, don't you all?" Evey wondered idly.

That made Teach laugh again, and even Musashi allowed himself a small smile. "What in the blazes _are_ you?" Teach asked. "No one said to expect _this_." He made a gesture encompassing her. "That _scent_ …"

"Who sent you?" she asked him with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"The Mother," he replied simply.

"Mother? Whose mother?"

Teach scowled. " _The_ Mother. You know, the Ancients' leader. You do know about _them_ , don't you?" His scowled deepened. Did he mean the Bloodmother? That made no sense. Evey didn't even know the woman. She started suddenly. Had Tony told her about Evey? Had he gone as far as to involve the Ancients in this matter, all just to find her? Or had Walden forced his hand until he made it happen? That sounded like something her fiancé would do. Was he alive, then? Had Greyback lied? She didn't dare hope, but…

"Was Walden involved in this?" Might as well ask them directly.

"Don't know anyone by that name," Teach replied indifferently. "The Mother was the one who contacted us and requested that we get you out of here. No one else was mentioned."

"Now, if you're done with the questions, may we proceed with the extraction?" Cortés said impatiently. "We all have better things to do."

"I'm not quite done," she informed him coldly. "Where are you taking me, exactly?"

"To the rendezvous point. Stonehenge."

Of all the places… but it didn't matter. "Who will be waiting for me there?"

"The Mother, I suspect, as well as her flock." Teach, for one, didn't seem in a hurry to leave. "We have an arrangement. Why so distrustful, lassie? We're trying to get you out of here. Surely you _want_ to get out, don't you?"

Of course she bloody well did. "I'm just concerned as to what will happen to Scabior and the others once Greyback realises I'm gone," she explained truthfully.

"How… chivalrous of you," Cortés said with a mocking grimace. "You leave Greyback to us, girl. He'll get what's coming for him. His pack will be protected – although I doubt he would truly harm anyone here."

"He spent too much time assembling this little toy army to destroy it on a whim," Teach concurred. He chuckled. "Sounds a lot like Stockholm syndrome, if you ask me."

She'd thought about that, but it wasn't quite right. "Greyback is the one who abducted me, not them, and I certainly do not get along with _him_. I'm still very much intent on killing him, as a matter of fact."

She held Teach's gaze, but he just smiled. "If you can accomplish that, no one will blame you, love. Our hands are tied, but not so yours." His two fellows nodded solemnly.

They wanted Greyback dead? What did he mean, their hands were tied? So many questions. But she had to go back to the Headquarters – provided that was where she would end up. She turned to Scabior. "Are they lying?" By all accounts, he was almost as good as Greyback at detecting lies. Teach laughed heartily, and Cortés huffed in annoyance.

"No, I think not." He hesitated. "But we have orders not to let you out. We _have_ to try and stop them. Don't you understand?" He glared at Teach. Damn, she hadn't thought of that. There were probably enough werewolves at Asgard to take these three down, Wolves or not, but they would lose many men in the fight.

"How come you don't submit to them as you do to Greyback?" she asked him abruptly. It had been amusing to observe their reaction, but it didn't make much sense. They had to be at least as dominant as the Alpha, in all logic, and likely even more, considering the fact that they were older than he was and more experienced. Or did that count for naught? She wasn't certain. Much like mathematics, the whole dominance business mystified her.

"They're not pack," Scabior muttered in response. Oh. Simple as that, was it?

"Alright, so you can't take orders or counter-orders from them." He nodded sullenly. "And we already know that I can't make you disobey a direct order from Greyback." What a pickle. She was so close to being reunited with Walden and Tony… There had to be a way.

"He ordered you not to let her out, but what about allowing outsiders to _take_ her out?" Musashi spoke up quietly. It was the first time he'd opened his mouth since their arrival.

"I doubt the subtlety will make much difference," Scabior grumbled.

"Well, technically, it's not the same thing," Evey said. "Not the same thing at all. If you can convince yourself of that…" She shrugged helplessly.

Before she could register what was happening, Cortés was hauling her up and slinging her on his shoulder. Without another word, he made his way toward the gate. Clearly he had run out of patience. She was too stunned to protest. She glanced back and saw Scabior gaping at them. He didn't follow. He didn't try to stop them. Damn, it was working. She wished she could have at least said goodbye to everyone. And that she didn't have to leave in this embarrassing fashion. But she was out of the prison grounds, she noticed. The werewolf laid her down near the car and opened the door for her.

"Wait, are we going to _drive_ there?" All the way to Stonehenge? It would take hours!

"Unless you can fly, poppet, I believe we are," Teach replied cheerfully. He sat down in the back and patted the seat beside him. "None of us are fancy wizards. Only Greyback." The other two took their seats at the front, the former samurai at the wheel. "And that new Ancient bloke, I guess, if his alias is any indication."

 _Tony. I'm going to see him in a few hours_ , she thought, marvelling. And Walden as well, hopefully. She was free. She had made it out unscathed, had survived Greyback twice now. Merlin, he was going to have a fit when he realised she was gone.

Musashi turned on the radio and Led Zeppelin's _Immigrant Song_ blasted out of the speakers. At least they had good taste in music. It would make the long drive a little less tiresome.


	47. I don't trust it, so keep it on a leash

Tony paced anxiously among the ancient stones of the prehistoric monument. They said they'd be here around 2 o'clock. It was almost 3! Had something happened? It had been raining hard all over the country for the last couple of days. Maybe there had been an accident. That was the main reason for his dislike of automobiles – or any Muggle means of transportation, for that matter. Too dangerous, too unpredictable. He'd offered the Wolves assistance, by Apparating with them, but they'd refused stubbornly. No vampire was getting anywhere near Greyback's den, they'd insisted.

Finally, just as his watch _beeped_ with the turning of the hour, he heard a car approaching, and spotted it a moment later. It was in one piece, if extremely muddy. The driver was the first out; it was the Asian bloke he'd seen last week during the negotiations. He was followed by the arrogant werewolf who'd been so intent on keeping Greyback's location secret from them.

And then the back door opened, and Evey jumped out, glancing around wildly. She began running as soon as she caught sight of him, ending her course in a crash that would have knocked over any human. As it were, he stumbled backward slightly as he enfolded her in his arms. Against all odds, she was alive, and apparently unhurt.

"Where is he?" she murmured. He could hear the fear in her voice.

Of course. She didn't know yet. He'd almost forgotten about that, in his relief at seeing her and the anticipation and worry that had preceded it. "He's fine," he told her soothingly. "He just… he wasn't allowed to come." That wasn't strictly true, but then again, in a way, the sun really didn't allow Walden to come. He wasn't even aware that Evey was being rescued today, in fact. He had been asleep when Tony received Jeanne's message. They were communicating by text messages now, none of the others being familiar with owls or any sort of magical means of communication, and Tony had to admit that it was rather practical. The Order should learn how to use that, he thought. He would mention it to Molly. Or Arthur, preferably. He was more likely to appreciate the idea. It would take the Death Eaters a while just to understand how they were communicating, and make it that much harder for any spies they might have. Voldemort would never admit that something the Muggles had come up with might turn out to be more efficient than anything magical.

"What the hell did you get yourself into?" Evey muttered. "I thought Ancients didn't involve themselves in the lives of ordinary mortals. So much for secrecy."

"Well, you're not exactly ordinary," he replied, smiling. "But there's a lot you don't know," he admitted. "I'll explain later."

She disentangled herself from him slowly and looked up at him sceptically. "We're going back to the Headquarters, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably. That wasn't the plan, strictly speaking. "We will, yes. Soon."

"Tony," she said dangerously, "if I don't get to see Walden in a matter of minutes, things will degenerate quickly."

"You don't get to make demands or threats, little girl," Jeanne said crisply. "You ought to be grateful. We didn't _have_ to rescue you."

" _You_ didn't rescue me," Evey pointed out, gesturing toward the Wolves. "They did."

Oh, Merlin. He had expected that those two wouldn't get along – they both had strong characters, and Jeanne was annoyingly possessive of him – but this was hardly the time or place. "Hmm, guys? How about we get out of here before you get into a proper catfight?"

Jeanne glared at him, and Evey grinned mischievously. "Take us to the appointed location, then," Jeanne told him. "We shall talk there." She threw Evey a dirty look.

"Is Walden at that location?" Evey enquired.

Tony shook his head. "There's something we have to do before you can–"

"If you don't take me back to the Headquarters, I will Apparate there myself, and to hell with the splinching," Evey said fiercely.

That didn't sound like an empty threat. He glanced at Jeanne, who shook her head firmly. "No. We had an agreement, Antonin."

"It will be just a few minutes, an hour at most," he pleaded. "Just so I can explain–"

"No!" she repeated loudly. "We are going to _our_ quarters, right now. No discussion. Keep the girl under control, for crying out loud."

Evey didn't seem impressed. Then again, she'd just spent five months in Greyback's company. No doubt it had hardened her somewhat. "You're not his mother, burn you. Stop talking to him as if he were a child." She rounded on Tony. "I mean it, you know. I don't care if I lose an arm in the process. At least we'll be assorted," she added with a small chuckle.

This time he glanced at the Bloodmother, who was observing their exchange with obvious curiosity. Well, everyone was, in fact. Some of the Wolves were smirking, and the bloody pirate was laughing openly. The Mother made no sign that he should do one thing or the other, but the other Ancients seemed to expect him to obey his maker.

He was going to have to disappoint them. Grabbing Evey's arm, he Disapparated swiftly – although not quickly enough that he didn't catch the first of a no doubt long stream of flowery curses in the refined language of Victor Hugo.

* * *

"I'm sorry if I got you into even more trouble than you're already in," she told Tony sheepishly as they Apparated at the–

The Burrow? She frowned, looking around. "Why are we here?" she asked him.

"The Headquarters had to be relocated," he explained curtly. "V, you _did_ just get me in trouble, so let's not delay, alright?" He marched toward the house, and she followed.

He knocked on the door, and talked briefly to someone inside before it opened. She paid no attention to what was being said. Mrs Weasley hugged her before she could take a step inside. She was crying, Evey realised. Evey patted her awkwardly on the back, unsure what to do or say. Mrs Weasley finally allowed her to breathe once more and looked her up and down. "Are you hurt, dear?"

It was now Nana's turn to celebrate Evey's return. She barked happily. "No, not at all," she assured Mrs Weasley as she patted the dog. "I'm fine. I just… I need to see Walden." She was surprised that he wasn't there to welcome her. The realisation only made her more anxious to see him.

"Of course," Mrs Weasley said hesitantly, glancing at Tony.

"He's upstairs," Antonin told her softly. "Second floor, door on the left."

She ran up the stairs and didn't bother knocking before barging in. The room was completely dark, so she patted the wall in a purely Muggle reflex before remembering that the Weasleys didn't have an electrical installation. She had almost forgotten that she could use magic once more. She summoned a tiny ball of light from her left hand.

Walden lay on the bed, pale as a ghost. He didn't seem to be breathing. Merlin! Was he in a coma? She moved closer and sat down on the bed gingerly. She put a hand on his chest, then at his throat. No pulse. She was about to panic when she finally understood.

He was dead after all.

"I'm sorry," Tony muttered behind her. "I had to do it. That is, I didn't _have_ to, but–"

"Hush," she said. "It's fine. I don't care. He's alive, that's all that matters. Well, alive enough," she amended. She placed her fingers on Walden's cheek. It was cold to the touch. _Damn, he really looks dead. It will take some getting used to_ , she thought with a shudder.

All she wanted now was to cuddle beside him and wait until he woke up, but she knew she couldn't. Not yet. Sighing, she looked up at Tony. "Alright, what's happened?"

* * *

They settled in the kitchen, with some tea for the girls. He looked at their steaming cups with envy. He would give decades of his life for one sip of hot tea, and centuries for one of Molly's freshly baked scones.

He shook his head, dispelling the images of food and drink he would never taste again. "We moved here because Dumbledore wasn't certain the Black house was safe anymore," he explained to Evey. "Apparently, it still is, but we haven't been back since the battle. Walden and I haven't, anyway."

Evey looked puzzled. "Sirius is dead," Tony went on gently. "He died during the battle. Just after you disappeared, I think. Bellatrix got him."

Evey looked upset for a moment, as if she was on the verge of tears – which would be perfectly normal – but she recovered quickly. Yes, her time with the werewolf had certainly toughened her. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing. She swallowed hard. "And Walden? Who killed him?"

He hesitated only a brief instant before telling her. What could she do, anyway? The man was in Azkaban. She couldn't get to him there. "Rodolphus Lestrange. Killing Curse. He shot him in the back, as they say." He added that he'd been arrested and returned to prison, along with most of his fellow Death Eaters – those who were present at the Department of Mysteries, in any case. As far as he knew, only Bellatrix and Travers had eluded capture. Only them, but those two were probably more deadly than any ten other Death Eaters.

"And Harry? Is he alright?"

"He's… distraught, understandably enough," Molly replied. "But he wasn't harmed. Nobody else was."

"That's something, I guess," Evey muttered. "Anything else?"

She seemed eager to tell them something. "Emmeline Vance was murdered, in July," he told her. He had never met the witch, and neither had Evey, but she had been a preeminent member of the Order.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. She did sound sorry, but she was now fidgeting with her spoon, clearly waiting for him to finish.

"Alright, what happened to _you_ , then?" he asked her. He would explain about the Ancients later.

"I'm linked to Greyback," she announced without preamble. "Physically, I mean. Those wounds I got last year?" she said, glancing at him. He nodded. He remembered only too well. "That was _him_ getting hurt." He stared at her. Molly looked confused. They hadn't told her that part. It was one of the few things they'd held back – more for her sake than anyone else's.

"And it works both ways. Thankfully, if I may say so," she went on with a bitter smile. "I assume you already know he's a Wolf." Tony nodded again. "Right. Last piece of news, then." She paused as if to give the revelation some weight. _What now?_ he thought dismally. "I can turn into a werewolf."

That was not poss– Oh, right. They weren't supposed to use that word. He laughed. What else could he do? Molly glared at him, shock painted on her face. "Sorry. It's nervous laughter." He passed a hand through his hair. "I just don't get it." He frowned at Evey. "You've been with us for a year and never transformed before at full moon."

"It doesn't have to be the full moon," she explained. "I'm like Greyback – loath as I am to admit it. He can turn at will. I don't think he has to transform when the moon is full, either, but he does, to keep up appearances. His pack didn't know what he was until very recently." She grinned viciously.

"The Wolves won't be pleased that you revealed their secret to mere werewolves," Tony pointed out.

"They'll be even less pleased knowing it was Greyback who told me himself," she said smugly. "And that he named a few names as well."

Damn. Had the Wolf gone mad? They _would_ be angry, that was for sure. "You've been trying to discredit him, haven't you? To his pack and to the Wolves."

She nodded vigorously. "Quite successfully, I believe, at least as far as the pack is concerned. He hasn't been seen since I transformed and almost tore his throat out."

So Greyback was at large. Could his fellow Wolves find him? He certainly hoped so. "V, if there's nothing else…" He trailed off, looking at her questioningly. She shook her head. "We really should be going. They want to talk to you. The Ancients, I mean. I'll explain on the way. It's a bit of a mess." That was a euphemism.

"Can't it wait? At least until Walden's awake?" she pleaded.

"Molly will let him know what happened and where to find us. He'll meet us there when he wakes up, don't worry."

She grimaced in plain annoyance. "Fine. Let's get this over with."


	48. Hello, sweetie

They Apparated in front of an imposing building. A manor house, Evey realised. The Ancients must have fancy residences all across the world. It was situated in the midst of an immense park, and the back of the house was surrounded by woods.

She whistled softly. "Fancy."

"Glad you like it. It's partly yours, after all. Or it will be, anyway," Tony told her with a grin.

She scowled at him. "Is this Walden's place?" He nodded. "But I thought it was under a Fidelius Charm." She glanced at the house again. "How can I see it? I've never had _that_ ability before."

"The charm was broken," Tony explained.

 _Of course_ , she thought. Walden had died, and the secret should have been passed on to the only other person who knew it. But Tony had died as well; the secret, with no mind of its own to realise that the two potential Keepers were still alive, had had no one to attach itself to. "So… anyone can find it. Isn't that dangerous? Why are we meeting here?"

Tony shrugged. "The Fidelius was only an extra safeguard. The Macnairs have owned the domain for centuries. There are hundreds of wards and other spells in place, some older than half of the Ancients, others we added after Voldemort revealed his true agenda. I've learned a thing or two when I served him." Black magic, Evey assumed. "The house is almost as well-protected as Hogwarts itself." He gestured toward the front door and they started in that direction. "Besides," he went on, "the others certainly have places somewhere in the UK, most of them anyway, but they weren't too keen on revealing their location. They already knew where the manor was, thanks to Jeanne, so I figured it wouldn't matter."

"But I thought Walden was the only one who could invite you in? You told me even you were not allowed inside until he said the words."

"When Walden died, I believe even the house didn't recognise him as the owner. That right has either passed on to Caraid, by default, or it has been lost altogether, at least for the time being. Until we start living here again, I suspect."

"What about Caraid, then? Is he still here?" They had mentioned him before. Walden was quite fond of the old house elf.

"Oh, he's as good as ever. He'll outlive us all, you'll see." He frowned slightly when he realised what he'd said. "Well, some of us, at any rate," he muttered. Shaking his head, he continued. They had reached the small staircase that led to the door. "We've been visiting him a lot these last few months, so I expect that had a positive impact on him and his health. He must have felt quite lonely last year."

"You've been allowed outside?" Well, he was outside now, but she'd assumed it was an exceptional event, following her release.

"Sure. To look for you. Molly said we could, and that she'd cover for us if anyone enquired." He stopped suddenly, his pale hand on the doorknob, and gave her a sheepish look. "We _did_ look for you, you know. I didn't mean to imply that we'd spent all that time having tea parties with Caraid. Walden never relented, even after the Ancients promised to help and the Wolves agreed, too."

She laughed. "I don't doubt that for a second," she assured him. "Come on. Let's get this over with," she added, cocking her head toward the door.

The vampires were all gathered in the dining room. It was a large room, tidy and decorated with old-fashioned taste. Tony explained that Walden hadn't used it in years – like most of the house, in fact. He never received any guests or visitors, so there was no point in using the long mahogany table. Caraid insisted on keeping it squeaky clean, however.

The house elf was nowhere in sight now. One of the Ancients told them he'd been asked to find some occupation elsewhere while they talked. She then indicated the end of the table, where two empty chairs awaited them. Evey took a seat beside the woman who'd been so angry when they Disapparated earlier. She ignored Evey entirely but threw a murderous glare in Tony's direction. He sat next to Evey, as far from the French woman as he could get.

Across the table from Evey sat a short, handsome woman with lustrous black hair. Her midnight blue gown sparkled in the light provided by the chandelier – an electrical appliance, Evey noticed with some surprise. She hadn't expected any Muggle commodities in the ancient house, although it made sense: Walden's father had been as curious and fond of Muggles as Arthur Weasley was.

The woman was looking straight at her with dark, calculating eyes. Evey couldn't suppress a shudder.

It wasn't the Bloodmother who spoke, however. It was the tall man who sat three chairs away from her, on her left. He had a deep, oddly accented voice. "Miss Kane. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said with a slight bow of his shaved head. She made no reply, so he continued. "I understand that the past few months must have been… difficult for you, but this won't take long, I assure you. I'm sure you yearn for the comfort of your own home, and the presence of your beloved." She nodded at that. "Of course. Let us begin, then. Has Antonin explained to you the reason of this gathering?"

"Briefly. I understand he is to be judged for turning Walden, who is not an Ancient. And I suppose you'll want to learn more about me," she added grimly.

The man inclined his head in affirmation. "Given your improbable status, we have decided to make an exception and, for the moment at least, to consider you as one of us. I will introduce everyone present, as I believe it will make the proceedings less… awkward."

And he did, one by one, starting with himself. "I am Imhotep," he said, placing a wide hand on his chest. He was wearing a well-cut grey shirt. Then he indicated the tall, red-haired woman to his right, who sat next to Tony's maker. "This is Alice Kyteler, my progeny, and your friend Antonin's grandmother, so to speak. I believe you have already met Jeanne," he went on, pointing to the slender woman beside her. And so on until he reached the woman who sat on his left, Zenobia, former queen of the Palmyrene Empire – sometime around the 3rd century, if she remembered correctly. He gave her everyone's proper name, not the silly nicknames she'd heard before, except for the Bloodmother and the woman who sat next to her. She was just 'The Ripper'. If Evey hadn't been so anxious to see and talk to Walden, she would have been eager to pelt them all with a thousand questions. She doubted they would have allowed it, however.

"Now that all the niceties have been dealt with, can we move on to business?" Jeanne asked curtly.

Imhotep nodded. "Indeed." He turned to Evey once more, leaning forward in his chair. "What can you tell us of your family? How far back can you go along your family tree?"

Not very far, she guessed. They must have different standards than mortals on the matter, certainly. She couldn't even name her great-grandmother on her father's side. Imhotep was clearly disappointed, all the more when she told them that she came from an all-Muggle family. If anyone had had a smidge of magic in them, she didn't know about it. Gorgo announced that she would research Evey's ancestors with the few clues she'd given them, before their next meeting. It was part of her 'job', apparently.

Then Alice asked her if anything else had happened during her time in Greyback's captivity, or if Tony had omitted anything in his account of her abilities. Tony glanced at her sideways, but she didn't know how to interpret the nervous gleam in his eyes. They already knew pretty much everything, what was the knowledge of her transformation going to do?

As she opened her mouth to reply, the door banged open.

* * *

Jeanne startled at the sound. She hadn't heard the front door open. She had been too intent on the girl and what revelations she was about to make – Jeanne had caught Antonin's apprehensive look. Had he been hiding something from her? Wasn't it enough that he'd humiliated her in front of everyone, earlier? Including those damned Wolves. How _dare_ he disobey her! After everything she'd done for him, all the risks she'd taken to make sure the damned girl was returned to them!

It was Walden, of course. Was it already so late? She glared at him with unsuppressed irritation. He was just as rude as his brother, to barge in like that, without even knocking.

Granted, it was his home, but still.

The girl jumped to her feet and ran to him, as was to be expected. _How poignant_ , Jeanne thought wryly. People nowadays had no notion of discretion. They were always touching each other in public, sometimes even kissing right there in the open! She allowed them a brief moment, but eventually put an end to it. "If you don't mind, we would like to resume our–"

"I _do_ mind, as it happens." Walden had raised his head at last, although the girl was still clinging to him as if afraid he might take flight. For that matter, so was he. He looked furious, now that the initial relief and joy at being reunited with his _beloved_ – Imhotep could be so old-fashioned, sometimes – was slowly fading. "What the hell were you thinking?" he barked at them. "She's been gone five _months_! Couldn't you give her some time to recover? Was a day or a week to much to ask? You're immortal, burn you, what's the fucking rush?"

"We have better things to do than wait in this God-forsaken land for however long it will take her to recover," Cat retorted. "And we do not have your aptitude to travel long distances in a split second, in case you'd forgotten." She looked outraged at his sudden interruption. Most of them considered him a bastard – or worse – and they were embarrassed for _her_ , knowing it was her progeny who had sired him. That particular matter was far from settled, that was certain.

"We wanted to take the opportunity that we were all already in England to consult with Miss Kane," Vlad went on more calmly. "It is quite a rare occurrence that we are all gathered together in the same place, except for those planned meetings every once in a while."

"You only think about yourselves, don't you?" Walden growled. "We mere mortals are not worthy of consideration."

The girl stirred at his side. "Wal, it's fine," she murmured. "Let's just be done with this, then they'll leave us alone."

"You'd better listen to her," Jeanne told him sternly. "I don't care for your whining. Do you have any idea what you asked of us? We haven't interfered in mortal affairs in centuries, and none of our previous involvements ever included that of the Wolves! Do you realise that we allied with them for the single purpose of rescuing her? How dare you say that we–"

"Oh, what tosh!" he thundered. "You know very well _why_ you went through the trouble of finding her, and it didn't have anything to do with any concern about her well-being, or mine, or even Tony's," the infuriating man had the nerve to say. "You want to _use_ her."

"And rightly so, after your brother messed up so thoroughly," the Ripper countered angrily. "What choice do we have? If she cannot bear children–"

"I'm sorry, what?" the girl interrupted her. "I must have misheard that last bit."

"You fool." Jeanne glared at the couple. "I'm not denying it, boy. That _is_ the only reason we rescued her, for it is the only way we can make up for Antonin's mistake. I believe it was more than implied when we discussed the matter."

"I'm not a fucking breeder!" the girl lashed out. "Hell, I don't even want kids. I'm not responsible for Tony's actions, damn you." She turned to Antonin. "I'm sorry, mate, but I'm not."

"I know, doll," Antonin said quietly. "Don't worry. We never meant to allow that to happen."


	49. Carry on my wayward son

Jeanne rounded on his brother, eye flashing. "I beg your pardon? We had an agreement!"

Walden shook his head, tightening his grip on Evey, her body so warm against his. He could hardly believe she was here. He hoped it wasn't one of those strange, almost lucid dreams he sometimes had. "You said she might be able to have children, unlike you, and you entertained the possibility that the ability might pass on to them, even that they might be Ancients. Well, maybe she can, and maybe not, but I sure as hell am not going to let you find out."

"I hate to say this," Darya said smugly, "but I told you so."

"You deceived us," Alice said. She looked genuinely shocked, and sad. He felt a twinge of guilt. He understood what it meant to them, but they should have known no man would allow his wife-to-be to become a vampire breeder, even if he was the one who impregnated her. They had already talked about children, and he had been relieved when she said she wanted none – although she was still young, and he'd also been afraid that she might change her mind. Now that he was a vampire, if anything, having kids was even more out of the question.

In any case, they couldn't just use Evey's body for their own purposes. They _should_ have seen that. They had deceived themselves.

"Ali, I'm sorry," Tony said. "And I realise it's making my case much worse than it already is, but you didn't seem interested in rescuing her for the sake of it, so…"

"So you decided to take advantage of us?" Jeanne exploded. "You are one of us, you ungrateful little–"

"I never asked for this." His voice was soft, but there was resentment in his eyes. "You asked _them_ if they minded, but _I_ never had a choice. You asked me if I wanted to get out of prison. I told you I'd rather get out of life."

Walden frowned. He'd considered suicide? Antonin? The notion seemed ridiculous. He'd always been so enthusiastic, so optimistic. Then again, he couldn't begin to imagine what life must have been like in Azkaban for him. The few times Walden had been in contact with Dementors, the guilt and horror at what they'd done had been enough to give him nightmares for weeks. And Tony had had to live around the foul creatures for years, almost permanently, since he was locked up in the highest-security block. If there was a hell, that was what it must resemble.

He looked at his brother, but Tony was not done with Jeanne. " _You_ deceived me. You promised me a better life, eternal life, and I assumed you meant death, oblivion, or whatever awaits us beyond the veil." He gave her a bitter smile. "You never corrected me. And then you just expected me to obey you." He scowled slightly, his twisted smile fading, turning upside down. "How is this life any better than the last?" he asked, his voice louder now, his tone sharper. "Thanks to you, instead of bearing the guilt for a few decades, it will accompany me for centuries, or even longer, should I be so unlucky. It doesn't matter that I'm out of Azkaban. I never needed the Dementors as a constant reminder of what I've done." He shook his head slowly. "And now I've even more to feel sorry about." He cocked his head toward Walden. "You made everything so much worse for me, Jeanne," he went on in a whisper.

He raised a hand when Jeanne tried to speak into the brief silence. "I know you've made allowances for me. You let me find Walden and stay with him; you said I could join the Order and assist them, if I remained discreet." He ruffled his hair with both hands. "I don't _blame_ you. It's not that. I just wish you wouldn't be so fucking hypocritical about what's happening now. Whatever I am, you made me." He stared at her, unblinking. "Whatever I do, you're as much responsible for it as I am. My whole cursed life is your responsibility."

Evey was weeping, Walden realised suddenly. Silent tears were trailing slowly down her cheeks. He held her even tighter, almost to the point of crushing her, but she didn't protest.

"If I hadn't turned Walden," Tony went on – he was clearly determined to let everything out now that he had started, "I would have been alone, more alone than even you can conceive. Everyone I used to call a friend now hates me. And if we hadn't rescued Evey, or if we'd gotten there too late, Walden would have hated me even more than the rest of them put together."

Walden was about to protest, but he was abruptly reminded of his behaviour of the last weeks, something he'd completely overlooked at the time. He'd been execrable toward his brother, had blamed him at every turn, blamed him for everything. He was an Ancient, how could he have let Greyback capture Evey? And Tony had taken it all stoically, all the while trying to comfort him and doing whatever he could to find her at the same time. He felt a strong rush of guilt, and felt Evey's arms tighten around him.

"You want to punish me for it?" Tony demanded. "Go ahead. Go right ahead. I would do it again, I told you that before. There was never an alternative."

There was a long silence. It was finally broken by the Bloodmother. "There will no punishment for anyone," she said quietly.

"We are a family, Antonin," Gorgo added. " _Your_ family. You are not alone. You never will be." She turned her large, dark eyes toward Evey and Walden. "Your friends are a part of you, and therefore there are a part of us. There are few enough of us as it is. It would be foolish of us to turn them away, just because they are different."

"We all share the same blood," Imhotep went on, "and we have all made mistakes."

"True words, my children," the Bloodmother concurred. "As for the matter of passing on your special ability, it was never my intention to start four different lines. I wanted you all to be equals, sharing in all my power." There were a few surprised glances at that. "The truth is that I have been, for too long, imprisoned in my own personal war against Malkoran – a war he hasn't deigned to acknowledge in a long, long time. This I deeply regret, for many more of us would have been turned if I'd permitted the inclusion of common mortals. But no. I wanted the best of what the world could give, and I thought the best were only to be found in the highest spheres; that renown and glory were necessary attributes for my offspring." She locked eyes with Tony, who held her gaze without flinching. "You have proved me wrong. You, and the people you call your own." She looked at them all, eyes wandering around the room. "Malkoran humoured me for years – centuries, maybe – but he lost interest eventually. For a long time we fought to claim the most praised rulers, the best warriors or cleverest scholars for our own. We tied for many years, and even now, our numbers are even, but I have found that Malkoran doesn't care anymore. He has abandoned his Wolves. This, Hannibal relayed to me during one of our encounters. This lack of personal involvement has allowed some of his latest… recruits… to go haywire. Greyback was not the first to go bad – it was the man who turned him who made the mistake of biting him in the first place. I could see that Edward regretted turning Grigori – the man was clearly unstable – but I suppose he benefited from a worldwide reputation, which made him a natural target." She paused for a moment, eyes unfocused, seemingly lost in thought. "The Wolves who gave us assistance have handled the situation as best they could. Before they organised this little trip to Wales," – Evey glanced sharply at that – "Yes, child. They have given away his location at last, but to no avail. The place lies in shadows darker than the heart of Abaddon. It is inaccessible to us. Only you might find it again, should you wish to do so." Evey shook her head hesitantly. _Why would she ever want to go back there?_ Walden wondered.

"As I was saying," the Mother went on, "the Wolves attempted to contact Malkoran, to impress on him the fact that Greyback was getting out of hand. He made only a vague reply, telling them that they should handle the situation as they saw fit. It seems they are now divided in two clans: those who have voted that Greyback be left alone, unchecked, and those who believe that he should be put down altogether. The first undoubtedly fear that Malkoran might decide to involve himself in everyone's business, should he deign to address the problem. The others are genuinely worried that Greyback may, wittingly or not, reveal their existence to the world."

"They can't kill him," Evey murmured.

Walden might not have heard her, but for his newly enhanced hearing. "Why not?" he asked in a puzzled voice.

Everyone was looking at them now, some of them obviously shocked that Evey had interrupted the Bloodmother. "Say what you mean, child," she demanded, apparently unperturbed.

Evey let go of Walden reluctantly and turned to face them. "Because his fate is linked to mine. If you kill him, you kill me."

"You are not making any sense," Jeanne said with some irritation.

"Because you're not _trying_ to understand," Tony retorted. "But you've apparently decided that you disliked her, so there will be no changing that." Jeanne glared at him but made no reply.

Evey looked up at Walden. "Remember last year, when I was suddenly cut and battered and bleeding and we couldn't figure out why?" He nodded slowly. He was afraid he knew exactly where this was going. " _He_ was taking a beating. Well, he was letting someone beat him, anyway. Same difference, I guess." She sighed. "It works both ways. Greyback realised that when we were fighting at the Ministry, when Rabastan tortured me with the Cruciatus Curse. That's why he took me away. He couldn't risk me getting hurt – or killed."

And now they had no idea where he was, or what he was doing. Fucking hell. If they'd known about this connexion between them, they would have taken him as well, and made damn sure he was safely locked away. Now they would have to find the bloody werewolf and make certain he was captured alive.


	50. Love is stronger than death

Knowing that she could turn into a werewolf was enough to convince the Ancients that, even if she'd allowed it, and provided that she could, Evey shouldn't be made to bear children. She was too contaminated by the Wolves' blood. They were now certain that any child of hers would turn out to be a monster. _Does that mean I'm a monster, too?_ Evey wondered.

She didn't give a fig about their opinion on the matter, of course. She had decided that she didn't want children, and nothing that had happened in the last year – not even meeting Walden – had changed her mind.

The Ancients had resolved not to look for Greyback themselves, but to assist the Wolves in their search for him, should they require it. The werewolves were better equipped to find him, in any case. They would be warned that no harm should come to Greyback, not until a full meeting could be convened to decide what to do with him, with consideration to his being linked with Evey.

Gorgo promised again to research Evey's family tree; they seemed to think it might prove useful. Well, if they could spare the time, they could do as they wish.

Finally, around midnight, they were allowed to take their leave. The Ancients assured them that they would not visit the house when they were not present. That seemed perfectly normal to her, but the fact that they needed to specify it made her wonder if they would ever be alone in here or if they would constantly be feeling like Bilbo Baggins when he suddenly found himself entertaining thirteen Dwarves and a Wizard without forewarning.

They returned to the Burrow after those who could not fly had been Apparated to the nearest station, except for Jeanne, who had taken off on her own, on foot. She hadn't said a word since her argument with Antonin.

Mrs Weasley was still awake when they stepped into the kitchen at the Burrow. She explained that she'd thought it best to leave the news of Evey's return for the next morning, so she and Walden could enjoy at least a night of peace before Evey was assailed by everyone else. She was deeply grateful to her for that. They bid her and Tony goodnight, and then spent a long time doing things that didn't involve any talking.

"You should get some sleep," Walden told her after a while.

"No, not now. I'll sleep in the morning and early afternoon, so I can spend the night with you. Better get used to the new hours I'll be keeping."

"You don't have to do that," he murmured. "It's very lonely at night."

"Which is precisely why I'm doing this," she replied matter-of-factly. Had he really imagined that she would keep sleeping at night, only to spend an hour or two in his company before he was forced to rest?

He made no reply. "What are we going to tell the others," Evey went on, "about how I finally made it back here? I assume mentioning the Ancients is out of the question." It was improbable enough that they'd allowed Mrs Weasley to be part of their conspiracy.

"We'll just say that we sneaked out at night for weeks to look for you and were finally able to track you down to Wales and rescue you. It is not too far from the truth, and anyway I doubt that they'll be pernickety about the details. They'll be too happy to have you back." He paused. "Well, I expect Dumbledore will want more than that," he amended after a moment.

"I suspect he knows pretty much everything already. It wouldn't do much harm to enlighten him in the few details he might have overlooked. That is… as far as it does not concern me."

"You still want to keep it a secret from everyone else?"

"Uh-huh. As long as possible." There would be enough questions as it was.

"Alright." He seemed to hesitate. "Did he hurt you?" he asked softly.

"Despite the fact that he knew it would harm _him_ , yes, he did. He knew there was an Ancient working for the Order, and he wanted his identity, for some reason. I didn't give it," she added fiercely.

Walden turned to face her. "What happened there?" he asked with sudden intensity. "Were there others with him?"

"Oh, yes. A whole pack of them." She smiled. "Nice blokes, for the most part. Good thing they were there, otherwise I'm not sure what I would have done. Greyback and I would have likely killed each other before long."

"Right. So you've been staying, alone, with a bunch of _nice blokes_ , for five months." His face was absolutely still.

Was he serious? Damn. It hadn't even crossed her mind that he might be _jealous_ , of all things. She couldn't help a laugh. "That's adorable. Here I was, a captive to an immortal werewolf, subject to his whims, and you're worried I might have slept with his minions." She shook her head. "What should I say? You were here, allowed outside all night, and free to do whatever you wanted."

"I would never–" He cut off abruptly, as if realising how insane he sounded. _Better late than never_ , she thought wryly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's been… difficult."

"I know." She traced one his facial scars delicately. "It's been difficult for everyone. But we're here now. Alive." She frowned slightly. "Well, I am, anyway." She sat up suddenly. "You know what? We should get married."

"Now?" he asked, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Not this very moment, no, but soon. You already died once, and I almost did, twice. Who knows what's in store for us in the future?"

"Good point. We'll have to ask Molly if she doesn't mind, but I don't suppose she will."

"We could do it at your place," she pointed out. "Tony says it's well-protected."

"It is, but we're still not supposed to be outside. Molly only gave her consent because of you, and the others don't know she knew we were going out."

"After everything we've been through, everything's that's happened… do we really have to stay here, under constant watch? Can't we just move there, to the manor? I don't see why we shouldn't, especially if we're getting married." She lay back down on the bed. "Wal, you _died_ for the Order. How could they possibly not trust you now? I think we've all made it quite clear that we're intent on destroying Voldemort and his allies."

He thought it over for a minute. "What about Tony?"

"He'd be coming with us, obviously," she said promptly. "He'd be miserable here. They tolerate him, but they will never accept him, not fully." He seemed relieved by that. "What, did you think I'd just abandon him?" She rolled her eyes in annoyance. How much did he think she'd changed, exactly? "Just because I was forced to spend some time with Greyback means I've become like him, you know. And that connection we have is purely physical. I don't share his mind."

"Does that mean you feel _everything_ he feels physically?" he asked emphatically.

She frowned uncertainly until she realised what he meant. "Oh Merlin, no, it's nothing like that. At least, I don't think so," she amended hesitantly. "I don't… I mean, so far, I've never…" She held her head between her hands for a moment. "It's been almost a year and a half since he bit me. I think it's safe to assume I would have felt something by now, if it included _that_." Then again, she'd never seen a woman at Asgard. How did they…? Most of the pack remained at the prison permanently. How had she never thought of that before? And none of them had expressed any particular interest in her. Maybe there was a secret cell full of women hidden somewhere?

But Greyback had spent most of his time out of Asgard. Her only indication was that he'd never mentioned feeling anything from _her_ , and Walden and she had been quite active earlier this year. Surely he would have said something about it.

She huffed in frustration. There was no knowing for certain. "Do you think we should look for him?"

"Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"None at all," she admitted. "And even Scabior had no idea where he'd gone to. All I know is that he hasn't returned since September. The others would have told me."

Walden scowled slightly. "Did you turn them against him somehow?"

"Not exactly, but after I managed to subdue him, when I was transformed, they were… How should I put it? It was like they considered me as one of their own, instead of a mere witch. And as I'd had the upper hand over their Alpha, that made me someone to be reckoned with, if not quite his equal. I realised I could order them about, unless the command was in contradiction with one Greyback had given them." She sighed. "But before that, I already did what I could to discredit him." She told him about the arguments she'd had with Croyd and Scabior, and others, and how she'd usually come up on top of things. "Not sure how much good it did, though. Even if they suddenly decided to overthrow him, they'd be hard-pressed to do it."

"Unless they had help."

"From the other Wolves?" Walden nodded. "Yes, I guess that would work, even with only the half that wishes for him to be brought down. Not much anyone can do about it until he is found, however."


	51. There's a nip in the air

Molly decided to arrange a little welcome back party for the occasion of Evey's return. It would take place that very evening, as some members of the Order would be available to attend.

She had sent an owl in the morning to Dumbledore, and another to Ronald and Ginny, then she had gone to Diagon Alley to inform George and Fred in person. That way, she was certain that everyone would know before lunch.

George was immensely relieved to hear the news. He'd been quite worried since June, often asking if he could do anything to help and even trying to follow several members of the Order as they went on missions, most of which had nothing to do with Evey. He was disappointed to realise that the girl was asleep when he arrived at the Burrow around noon, but Molly explained that she probably wanted to adjust to Walden's sleep pattern, as was to be expected. George went back to Diagon Alley but promised to be back in the evening.

Evey woke up around tea. Walden shouldn't be long, Molly estimated. The days were short enough now that he could join them for supper – breakfast, to him. Everyone was still at work, so Evey offered to help with the meal, when they had finished their tea. Antonin hovered around for a while, until Molly told him to either find something to do or somewhere else to be.

Arthur came home early that day, for the first time in weeks, and Bill and Fleur were with him. Walden was up by then, and supper was almost ready. Tonks arrived half an hour later, soon followed by Remus. Kingsley had excused himself, and Alastor didn't know the girl, but Dumbledore said he would try to pop by. He'd said not to wait for him, however, so they settled at the table.

The dog, Nana – she was growing fast, and was already larger than Molly ever expected – was delighted to see so many people at once and kept running happily around the kitchen. She always returned to Evey after a few minutes, though, as if to make sure the girl was still there and didn't need protection.

George had wanted to sit at Evey's side, but she was constantly flanked by Walden and Antonin. Her son kept stealing glances at her, as if he couldn't quite believe she was there. Evey was clearly uncomfortable, weary of all the attention she was receiving, and never went more than a few feet away from either Walden or Antonin. Not that they looked ready to leave her side. Walden never let go of Evey's hand that Molly could see, except when someone came to embrace her, and then he did it quite reluctantly.

They sat down in the living room afterward for tea, and some cake, of course.

Tonks was suddenly almost in tears. "Evey, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "We did what we could, I swear, but Greyback was impossible to find. I tried everything, spoke to every source that the Aurors know of."

"I talked to every werewolf I've ever known," Remus added, "and many I'd never met before. Most were clueless, and those who seemed to know something were unable to speak. There must be some spell that prevents anyone who doesn't have express permission to give away information."

"Spells, wards, charms of all sorts… Black magic for the most part," Evey confirmed with a nod. "The place is invisible to all but his pack." She patted Tonks awkwardly. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"It's a miracle that you are," Remus told her gravely. "I know Greyback likes to play with his food, but to keep you alive for months…" He was frowning. "Did he say anything? About the fact that you'd… survived him? Is that why he took you?"

"I suppose it must have come as a shock to him." Evey shrugged unconcernedly. "He didn't tell me much, however. He wasn't there most of the time, in fact. Really, I don't know why he bothered abducting me at all."

Remus was still scowling, as if he could hear the lies in her words, but Tonks smiled weakly. "We're just so glad that you're back, and in one piece at that." She cocked her head in Walden's direction. "You're lucky to have him," she murmured to Evey. Remus glanced at her briefly, cheeks reddening. _Stubborn man_ , Molly thought ruefully. Those two were proof that age difference didn't matter, no more than background or even the fact that one was more than merely human.

Walden grinned at Tonks. Molly kept forgetting that his hearing was much keener than it used to be. "Tony did most of the work, in truth," he said quietly. "I wasn't even awake when she came back."

Tonks met Antonin's eyes. She had never trusted him, Molly knew. Most of them didn't. "Well, whatever you did, it was more than any of us could achieve. Thank you for getting her back."

"You don't have to thank me. I didn't do it for you," Antonin replied curtly.

"How _did_ you find her?" Remus asked suddenly, gazing at the vampire suspiciously.

"I made use of my uncanny charms," Antonin answered with a disarming smile that revealed his sharp canines. Molly rolled her eyes. He would never change. And if that was supposed to make Remus less distrustful, it certainly wasn't working.

The werewolf grimaced slightly. "If it turns out that you knew where she was from the start…" he began in a threatening tone.

"Don't be a fool," Evey spoke up sharply. And quite loudly, for everyone paused in their conversations to stare at her. She held herself upright. "I'm tired of everyone accusing him of being Voldemort's spy, or whatever you think he is. What will it take for you to trust him? You have no idea of the sacrifices he made to save me. And I have no intention of letting you know, because it's none of your fucking business." She rose to her feet, Walden shadowing her an instant later with a look of concern on his pale face. "If you won't trust him – trust them – then I don't see why we should trust _you_ with our secrets." She turned to Molly, and her eyes softened. "Mrs Weasley, I appreciate the gesture, but I should tell you I hate parties, especially when they're about me. I need some air," she added as she made her way toward the back door, Walden on her heels. After a brief hesitation and an apologetic look toward Molly, Antonin followed them outside.

* * *

"Weren't we supposed to take the opportunity to invite everyone to the wedding?" Walden asked when they were outside. Evey sat on the old swing that must have been there since Bill was a toddler. Tony was leaning against the shed, looking up at the night sky. There were no clouds, and the stars shone brightly. The moon was almost full.

"Perhaps we should opt for a private ceremony. Just the three of us," Evey muttered moodily.

The 'party' had been a bad idea. He'd tried to tell that to Molly, when Walden and Evey were still asleep, but she wouldn't hear it. The others had a right to see her, she insisted. He'd explained that they were perfectly welcome to visit her, but to make a party about her, to make her the centre of attention… that was a bad idea. Well, he'd tried, at least.

"Caraid will be heartbroken if you don't invite him," Tony pointed out. "After all these years despairing of ever marrying Walden off."

"Alright, the four of us, then," she amended, smiling at last. _That's better_ , he thought. He hated to see her upset, now more than ever.

"It's all the same to me," Walden told her. He frowned suddenly. "Aren't you cold? I don't feel it, but we're in November…" She was wearing a simple blouse, Tony realised. She must be freezing.

Evey shrugged. "Not really. I don't really feel hot or cold anymore. I think my body just adjusts to the temperature."

"A year ago, I would have found that incredible, but considering the latest developments…" Tony said with a grin.

She returned it. "I wonder what's next," she speculated idly. "Perhaps I'll turn into a bat."

"As long as you don't start craving fresh human flesh, I think we can handle pretty much everything," Walden said with a laugh.

"Even if I crave _dead_ human flesh?" she countered playfully.

"Well, it's easier to come by," Tony said wisely. "You could eat us, and we'd regenerate. Endless food supplies," he added crookedly.

"Gross," Walden grumbled. "I just ate, mate."

"Weakling," Tony whispered. His brother glared at him. "Anyway. That doesn't settle the matter of the wedding." They both scowled at him. "If you really intend to do it on the winter solstice, you'd better start planning. There's barely a month left." They wanted to do it then simply because it was the shortest day of the year – meaning the longest night, and that they would therefore have more time to spend together. "Seriously, you're going to invite other people, right? It's not really a wedding if there are no guests, no glorious feast, no drunken uncle rolling under the table…"

"What little family I have left thinks I'm dead," Evey reminded him, "and in any case, they belong to the past. You're my family now, like it or not."

"I think Remus can play the part of the drunken uncle just fine. And Molly can be the fussy lady who keeps rearranging your hair and your dress. The twins will provide ambiance, I'm sure, and hopefully they'll bring some of their products as a wedding gift. Fleur can be your maid of honour, and as the best man, it will be my duty to… um… make sure she has a good time." He was picturing it all quite clearly, as he often had before Evey was captured: they would set firefly lanterns all over the garden – which would be enclosed in a warming ward, of course, if they insisted on a winter wedding; there would be food enough to feed all of Africa for a year, and enough to drink to rival a Russian wedding; there will be music, and–

Evey pulled him out of his reverie with a sly smile. "I doubt Bill will allow you to show Fleur a 'good time'."

Tony snorted. "He'll be too drunk to care," he said dismissively.

Evey raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, fine. We'll invite them all. Just not right now."

"Of course not right now," Tony scoffed. "You have to make proper invitations. RSVPs. I think ivory or cream for the envelopes, and maybe gold for the paper… Or the opposite? They'll have to be handwritten, obviously."

He was talking to himself, he realised when Evey laughed. "We'll leave it all to you, then. Just don't forget to invite _us_ , alright?"


	52. Be our guest

"Let's recap: all members of the Order, including Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid from Hogwarts, plus the kids," Tony said.

"Right. And… I was wondering. Do you think we could invite some of the Ancients without inviting them all?" she asked uncertainly. "I mean, after that 'we're a family' speech, I'm afraid it would be rude."

Tony shrugged unconcernedly. "I'm sure a few will be offended, but so what? Who did you want to come?"

"Imhotep," she said promptly. "Gorgo, Alice and the Ripper." She closed her eyes to count them off in her head. She hadn't had much time to get to know them, but she'd already decided she liked these four. "Inviting the Bloodmother seems weird. I can't decide how I feel about her… Fascinated, terrified, intimidated?"

Tony chuckled. "I know the feeling. I think it'd be nice to invite her, just to be on the safe side… I doubt she'll come, anyway. She doesn't really mingle."

"And Jeanne… Well, she clearly doesn't like me, which makes it hard for me to like _her_. But she's welcome, if you want her to come."

"I don't," Tony replied curtly. "The less I see her, the better."

Evey nodded, glancing at Walden. He was lying on the couch, reading, while Nana slept by the fire. Her fiancé didn't seem particularly interested to know who would attend their wedding. "And um… do you have any way of contacting Ted and Silverclaws?"

Tony frowned. "Who?"

"You know, the Wolves… Blackbeard and the samurai bloke. I never remember his name. The others just call him Silver."

Walden did look up at that. "Why would you want to invite them? You barely know them."

"I spent five hours in a car with them," she countered. "I know them better than the Ancients."

Walden sat up on the couch, the book forgotten in his hand. "They _drove_ from Greyback's place to Stonehenge?" He glared at Tony. "You never mentioned that."

"Hey," Evey said with a placating gesture, "what if we did? They're alright, Wal. Nothing like Greyback." She sat down beside him. "They rescued me. They should be there. They're fun, you'll see."

He hesitated a moment. "Fine. Whatever. It's all the same to me." He'd been saying that often in the last few days.

"I have a phone number," Tony stated. "But I have no idea whose it is."

"Give me the phone," Evey said.

He patted his pockets, realised it wasn't there and went upstairs to look for it. He was back a moment later. He handed it to her gingerly, as if afraid it might break. Those things were more solid than they seemed, however, as Evey knew very well. She'd dropped her own more than once, and it had survived for over two years. It was probably still at her house.

"I have no idea how to find the number," Tony admitted.

Evey smiled. "I do." She looked up the contact list, but found only Jeanne's number. Going back to the text messages, she found the one she was looking for and called the number.

"You're calling them now?" Tony asked.

"Well, yeah. Wedding's in three weeks, and I don't even know if they're still in England."

It rang only once before someone picked up the call. " _Yellow_ ," the voice said.

Evey laughed. "Ted, it's Evey." Walden glanced at her, frowning. That must have sounded very familiar, she realised. Oh well. They'd really hit it off during the… rescue mission. "Fancy coming to my wedding on the 21st?" she asked without preamble.

" _A wedding! I love weddings. Wait, where will it be? 'cause we can't travel to the end of the world with a snap of our fingers, love_."

"Scotland, in the Highlands."

" _Oh, good. I thought you were going to send us to Peru or something_." She heard him talk to someone in the background. " _Yeah, he consents to come as well_ ," Ted went on cheerfully.

"Perfect. Can you bring some music?"

" _Sure thing. Silver will DJ for you_ ," he replied with a hearty laugh.

"Thanks, that's great. I'll text you the details when... well, when we have them. Bye." She ended the call and returned Tony's phone. They were both staring at her now, but she ignored them. "That's dealt with. What about the Ancients? Do you know how to contact them?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll take care of that. Don't worry about anything else, now. I've got this," Tony told her with a confident smile.

"Can I choose my dress, though? Or will you try it on for me too?" she asked him wryly.

"I will allow that," he said magnanimously. "I'm sure Molly would love to go shopping with you. Or Tonks. Or both," he added with a shrug.

"As long as Fleur doesn't tag along, I'm good."

"Aw, come on, she's not so bad."

"I never said she was. But I would keep comparing myself to her, it would be a disaster."

Both men rolled their eyes at the same time. "Merlin help me," Walden muttered. "How many times do I have to tell you–"

"I know, I know. Just kidding." Well, not really, in truth. The French woman was annoyingly beautiful, and it was difficult not to feel like a potato when she was in the same room. It certainly did nothing for her self-confidence. Fleur wasn't staying at the Burrow at the moment, but she was here every other day all the same. Evey couldn't wait to move to the manor house.

The men wouldn't understand, however, so she thought it best to change the subject. "Who will perform the ceremony? It doesn't have to be a Ministry official, I hope?" They couldn't be certain of anyone outside the Order.

"Dumbledore said he would. He's official enough, I guess," Tony replied casually.

Evey stared at him. "Dumbledore? You talked to him?"

Tony nodded. "He came by two days ago, while you were sleeping. I caught him alone for a moment. He sounded delighted."

"Did he give any news? Or did you overhear anything interesting?" Evey asked.

"He cast a spell against eavesdropping," Tony grumbled. "And Molly wouldn't say anything."

"As usual." Evey's outburst during the party the week before had done nothing to allay suspicion on the former Death Eaters, apparently. Mentioning that they were keeping secrets from them might not have been the best idea, on second thought.

Yes, they would all be glad to move to Macnair manor.

* * *

Tony cleared his throat. He always did, as he was aware that few people could hear him approach. Molly turned to glance at him, but soon directed her attention back to the pile of laundry that she was folding.

"Need help with that?" he asked her, knowing she would refuse. He always offered to help with the chores, but she never let him, as if she was afraid he would contaminate the dishes or clothes.

As expected, she shook her head. "I'm almost done, dear." The pile was almost as tall as she was, but he didn't bother to remark on it.

"If you… well, that is, when you have a moment, could you take a look at that?" He laid an envelope on the table next to the pile of folded clothes.

She frowned at it. "What is it?" When he didn't answer, she dropped the shirt she was holding and picked up the envelope with unfeigned curiosity. He had written her name on it. It had been years since he'd held a quill in his hands and written anything, and his first letters had had an unsteady look. He'd filled an entire page, repeating his name over and over, before he was satisfied with what he saw. She took out the paper inside – he'd settled for gold.

Molly's eyes wandered over the words for barely a second before she looked up at him. "They're getting married!"

He nodded, smiling.

"But you must have gotten the date wrong. You wrote December 1996."

"That's right."

"But that's two weeks from now! How are they going to–"

"It's already well underway. I just wanted your opinion before sending out the invitations. Everything else is taken care of – the house elves will adapt the buffet as we receive confirmations. There are just a few things I was hoping you might help me with," he went on sheepishly, although he knew she would do it for Evey, if not for him.

"Of course." She was smiling now. "What is it?"

"Evey needs a dress. I figured you would be more help than me in that regard…"

"Indeed. Oh, but I wish you'd let me know sooner! How are we going to find a proper dress in _two weeks_?"

"Walden said you shouldn't worry about the expense, so if Madam Malkin requires a little incentive to speed her along with the alterations…"

"I see. Do you have the rings? I assume you'll be the best man." It wasn't really a question. Well, who else could it be?

He nodded briefly. "Everything else is in order. I just need one more thing, but that's actually from Arthur."

"Arthur?" Molly repeated with a frown.

"Evey will need someone to walk her down the aisle," he said softly. "And I'll be waiting with Walden, so it can't be me. We just thought…"

"He will be thrilled, I'm sure." She seemed about to cry, for some reason. She turned her back to him for a minute, taking her handkerchief out of her sleeve. He heard her sniffle. Why were women always so emotional? And if she was already crying now, what would it be like during the ceremony?

She tucked the cloth back inside her sleeve and gave herself a shake before facing him again. "What about the wedding cake? Can your house elf bake one?"

"Oh, I'm not worried about the food," he said dismissively. Dumbledore had offered to have the elves at Hogwarts do the cake, and Tony knew from experience that it would be a masterpiece. He'd requested a _pièce montée_ from them once, on his birthday, in his fifth or sixth year. They had been quite happy to oblige – he'd been sneaking into the kitchens of Hogwarts since his very first month at the school and knew them all by name. They were friendlier than most of the other students. Walden had been outraged, but he'd eaten quite a bit of the cake all the same.

"Hmm. Anything else?" Molly asked. He pointed to the invitation. "Oh, yes." She studied for a moment. "It's quite good. Quite good indeed. Nice colours."

"Thank you."

"Who will be there?"

"We don't have that many people – the Order, some people from Hogwarts, you and the kids, of course," he said. "They'll be back by then, right?"

Molly turned to the calendar. "It's a Saturday – they'll be on the train all day," she told him with a frown.

"Well, the wedding will take place in the evening, after dark," he said with a smile.

"Of course, silly me. I'd almost forgotten."

"Evey also wanted to invite some of the Ancients, two Wolves," he went on rapidly, hoping she would let it slide, "and the barkeeper from the Hog's Head who helped her last year after Greyback attacked her. I don't even know his name," he admitted.

"He's Albus's brother, Aberforth."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I had no idea. I didn't even know he had a brother."

"But the Ancients? And _Wolves_?"

Hmm. Attempt at diversion: failed. "They all helped rescue her," he pointed out. "And it seems she befriended two of the Wolves who brought her back." Molly didn't look convinced. "They've already been invited," he went on. "I didn't have their address, only a phone number."

"Owls don't need addresses, dear."

"They're not wizards," he explained patiently. "They're not familiar with our means of communication. Same with the Ancients."

Molly sighed. "Well, it's their wedding, I suppose." Damn right it was, but of course he didn't say that out loud. "I hope the weather will be pleasant, at least."


	53. Like a queen in days of old

Walden stared incredulously after the two Wolves as they made their way to the bar and buffet. He hadn't dared admit that he didn't want them here, because Evey was obviously fond of them – although that was also the reason why he didn't want them here – but now he understood why she'd told him not to worry.

They had to be the oddest couple in all of their guests, and by far.

Although to be fair, he hadn't realised that Imhotep and Gorgo were also an item. They'd arrived together, their very first guests – Molly excluded, because she'd insisted on assisting Evey with her dress and hair. Gorgo had asked where she could find Evey, because she had something to give her before the wedding, and she'd left the men to talk as she made her way upstairs. She hadn't been seen since then.

Alice and the Ripper had both declined the invitation. Alice had sent them her good wishes but explained that she was currently in Italy and couldn't be back in time for the wedding, although Tony suspected that she'd declined because they hadn't invited Jeanne. The Ripper had come by earlier in December and left a note at the manor, apologising that she had to miss the party, but she'd just received a 'job' and had to depart for Canada right away. Evey had had a good laugh when she opened the gift the Ancient had left for them: it was a vintage 'vampire kit' of the like they sold in the late 19th to early 20th century, after Bram Stoker's famous novel was published. It contained all sorts of silver objects, notably bullets, crosses and stakes, as well as a bible and a pistol. _Just in case you get tired of him_ , the Ripper had written, _or if he should make the mistake of crossing you_. Ancients didn't fear silver any more than they did garlic, but Walden was now severely allergic to both. Of course, the religious paraphernalia was useless.

The Bloodmother had sent a card as well, in which she expressed her fondest wish that the wedding went as they hoped, and thanked them warmly for their invitation. She adjoined two small carved stones, each held by a simple cord. The note said that, in her days, these were given from mother to daughter, and from father to son, when their offspring wished to pledge themselves to each other. The symbols represented life and death, meaning that from that day forward, they would share everything together – the good as well as the bad.

Tony was running around, making sure everything was perfect. And it was, of course. Walden hadn't expected anything else. The garden was beautiful, brightly alight with firefly lanterns – where he'd hit upon those at this time of year, Walden had no idea – and decorated with colourful flowers that must have come a long way. Tony must have cast a Preserving Charm on them, for they looked as though they'd been picked that very morning.

The buffet seemed endless, and perhaps it was: the food replenished itself continually. The elves of Hogwarts, who had always been quite fond of Tony, had outdone themselves. Walden hoped that Caraid had at least been allowed to give a hand, otherwise the old elf would never forgive Tony.

For once in his life, he was very consciously glad to be wealthy. It had never really affected him before, because he'd never been much of a spender. This, however, would cost him an arm and a leg, but it was money well spent if ever there was.

The ceremony proper would take place around ten. He'd wondered at that, pointing out that everyone would be pissed by then, but Evey and Tony both assured him that the real booze-up would start after they were officially married. They would keep the stronger liquors for later and only deal out the champagne and wine in small quantities, to go with the food.

Dumbledore didn't show up until nine, accompanied by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. The imposing gamekeeper looked awkward in his brown suit, but his face hardened when he caught sight of Walden. He hadn't forgiven him for almost killing his hippogriff, apparently, despite his knowledge that the beast was still very much alive. The best way to remedy that, Evey had said, would be to give the creature back altogether. Walden went around the house, bowed smoothly to Buckbeak, and politely asked him to follow him to the garden. He was well-trained, he had to admit.

Hagrid became quite emotional after that episode, and he almost crushed Walden in a bear hug until Dumbledore interrupted him. The old Headmaster was wearing a very _chic_ dress robe of an improbable magenta colour. _Nah, he's not wearing it_ , Tony corrected him later, _he's rocking it_.

Molly finally came downstairs a few minutes before ten to ask everyone to take their places. Gorgo was still upstairs, as far as Walden could tell. Imhotep had spent most of the evening discussing with the Wolves. Who said vampires and werewolves couldn't get along?

Tony grabbed his arm a moment later and pulled him toward the golden arch under which Evey and he would be united. Dumbledore was already there and smiled brightly when the brothers approached. Tony was still fussing with Walden's tie when a sudden hush fell among the guests.

* * *

Evey had chosen a golden dress in the end, because it suited her complexion and hair better than a white or silvery one would have. And a good thing she had, because the tiara Gorgo had brought as a wedding present was of wrought gold. She wore no other jewellery save the necklace that Imhotep had selected for her, and it matched the tiara perfectly. They were both quite simple in design, with no superfluous adornments, delicate and tasteful. The necklace was relatively modern, as it had been purchased in Paris in the 1920'. The tiara, however, was the one the Spartan queen wore when she was married to Leonidas, a treasure she had cherished for centuries, and it was in pristine condition. Why she had suddenly decided to part with it was beyond Evey's understanding, for Gorgo barely knew her.

She was beginning to feel nervous, despite knowing that everything was going as planned. Molly, and then Gorgo, had turned her into a radiant bride – if she did say so herself – and she knew that the guests were in good hands. Antonin had truly outdone himself. Everything was perfect.

Except for the fact that she was starving. She hadn't eaten much when she woke up in the afternoon, and the excitement seemed to have burned out what little calories she'd ingested earlier. Of course, now was not a good time to grab a bite. She just hoped her stomach didn't rumble at the altar.

She glanced at the old grandfather clock and realised it was almost ten already. Molly caught her movement and nodded as she finished arranging Evey's hair. "I think we're done here," she said anxiously. "I'll go and gather everyone. It will only take a few minutes. Be ready." She didn't wait for a reply before hurrying outside.

Gorgo smiled reassuringly and patted Evey's arm. "Do not worry. Everything will be fine."

"I just don't like the attention," Evey said. She shook her head at her own foolishness. "It's stupid, I know. That's what weddings are for, isn't it? Focus everyone's attention on us, on our love."

"Think only of Walden," the older woman advised her. "Look him in the eyes, forget everyone else. This is about you two. The others are just here for the free buffet," she added with a grin.

Evey laughed perhaps a little too loudly, due to her agitation. "I wish _I_ could attend the buffet right now," she said wistfully.

"You should have eaten something before we applied the make-up," Gorgo told her with a faint sigh. "It's too late for that now."

A bright golden light suddenly illuminated the room. That was the signal. Taking a deep breath, she rose from her chair and walked toward the stairs, Gorgo at her side.

* * *

 _Merlin, she's beautiful_ , Tony thought in wonder. His throat felt dry all of a sudden, and he cleared it as discreetly as he could. He wasn't the one who was supposed to gape and stare. But to be fair, it was difficult not to, and he had no pretty maids of honour to distract him, for there were none.

He hadn't seen the dress until now; Molly had been afraid that he would describe it to Walden. It was simple enough in design, but the gold shimmered brightly and was pleasantly accentuated by the jewellery, a ravishing tiara and a cute necklace. That explained why Gorgo had spent the evening upstairs, at least. She was fond of Evey, Tony knew – she had told him so – although he wasn't entirely sure why. They'd only met once, after all. Perhaps Evey reminded her of someone she'd known before, in another life.

There were tiny sparkling butterflies of many colours flying around the bride as she made her way down the aisle with Arthur. The balding man looked ever so proud of his part in the wedding. _Besides, it will be good practice for the future_ , Molly had told him wisely. Walking Ginevra down the aisle would be a breeze after that. Not that it was very complicated, admittedly.

Evey was gazing dreamily at Walden, the guests apparently forgotten. She was smiling.

When Arthur left her with Walden a moment later, she turned briefly to Tony and grinned at him. As she faced Dumbledore, Tony spared his brother a glance. He looked oddly nervous; for a man who was used to facing down dragons and worse creatures on his own, it was strange indeed. He hoped Evey wouldn't take it to mean that she was more daunting than a dragon.

Dumbledore had a way with words, that couldn't be denied. The ceremony was short but quite entertaining, thanks to him. Tony didn't pay much attention to the vows – he'd helped both Walden and Evey write them, so he knew the gist of it – but instead let his acute hearing wander. There was always the possibility of an attack to consider, although he hadn't mentioned it to anyone but Dumbledore. The propriety was warded in every way known to him, but who could say what Voldemort had learned in the years since his defeat, especially after he recovered his body?

What he caught, however, was nothing more than the noises made by Walden's pets – as Tony called them – the various and quite numerous magical creatures that inhabited the grounds around the house. They were supposed to be tamed, partially at least, but Tony had taken no chance and raised a barrier between them and the beasts. The sounds were mostly muffled, but to him the wail of the Banshee was just as piercing as if she were standing beside him. Much like the thunderous appeal of Evey's stomach.

He revived long enough to provide the couple with their rings. As best man, it had been his job to choose the groom's ring; Walden had wanted something simple for himself, a plain golden band, and that was what he received. But Evey, who hadn't known that it was traditionally the maid of honour who picked the bride's ring, had asked Tony to pick one for her, and to surprise her. She laughed with delight when she saw the tiny fox with emerald eyes. He'd had it made especially for her. The fox occasionally moved along the ring and changed posture: goblin craftsmanshift at its very best.

Dumbledore ended the ceremony with a jolly "And now, for those of you who haven't tried the buffet," – he looked down at Evey with a knowing smile – "I highly recommend the cheese _soufflés_. They are scrumptious." Tony groaned softly at the mention of the food. Cheese _soufflé_ had always been one of his favourite dishes at Hogwarts.

The cake would be served at midnight, to give the guests time to regain their strength after being away from the buffet for so long. Tony launched another round of champagne, of course, to toast the newlywed couple.

Now he made his way toward the Muggle music box Silverclaws had brought with him. It was about time they danced.


	54. May the odds be ever in your favour

"That Malkoran bloke… your leader… what's he like?" Tony asked Blackbeard. Imhotep and Gorgo had left an hour ago, to visit the village nearby, and Silverclaws was still asleep. So was Evey, needless to say. It had been a long night.

The former pirate shrugged. "I dunno. Never met him."

Tony frowned. "Really? Don't you people have welcoming parties for new recruits, or meetings once in a while?"

Edward snorted. "Welcoming parties? How cute," he said with a mocking grin. "Nope, we have nothing of the sort. Only a few meetings now and then, but not everyone's invited."

"But he had to okay the turning, didn't he? Mustn't he give his consent as to who the next Wolf will be?"

"He doesn't give a shit about that. If he did, we wouldn't be in that pickle with bloody Greyback, would we? Malkoran shouldn't have let me bite Grigori in the first place. Man's insane."

"Then why did you turn him?"

"Because he doesn't _appear_ insane. It's not obvious. He's quite charming. Very… compelling. He never told us about Greyback, you know. We only found out years later, during the first war against Voldemort." He sighed. "Grigori mentored him, put silly notions in his head. The werewolf cause, as they call it, it was Grigori's idea, originally. To unite all werewolves and overtake the wizarding world. After that, subjecting the Muggles would be a walk in the park. To right the wrongs they did us, to avenge the countless wolves who died during the Great Hunt."

"Where is he know, Rasputin? Do you know?"

"After he helped Grindelwald rise to power, we warned him to be more discreet. We threatened to have him locked up. He lay low for years after that, and we thought he'd gotten the message, but then we realised he'd turned Greyback and that they were helping Voldemort. We tried to arrest Grigori, but he fled, I don't know where to. Haven't heard from him since then. Greyback… we didn't know what to do with him. Malkoran didn't give any sign of life, so we took a vote, the rest of us. It was decided that he would be released and left alone, provided that he be quiet and didn't involve himself in wizarding matters. He was young, and new, and we gave him the benefit of the doubt."

"What will you do if you find him? Or Rasputin? Locking them up seems rather mild, considering what they've done."

"Well, we can't kill them, and we can't exile them – we can't afford to have them watched constantly to make sure they remain where they should." He shrugged again. "Like we said before, our hands are tied."

"Why can't you kill them?" Tony asked softly. He was against violence in general, but if anyone deserved death, it was Greyback. Provided that they found a way to hurt him without harming Evey in the process, of course.

Edward scowled. "We literally can't. As in, we are unable to do it. Have you ever seen one of us being seriously injured?" Tony shook his head. "It's impossible to do us any permanent damage. We regenerate too fast. Limbs grow back. Everything grows back." Tony threw him a doubtful glance.

"Don't you know how I died, lad? According to the history books, I was beheaded. Well, it took a while, sure, hours at least, but here I am. And Grigori… well, you must have heard how he supposedly died."

"What about fire? What if you're burned down to ashes?"

"Fire's a fucking painful way to torture us, but it won't kill us. We'll regenerate as fast as we burn."

"Drowning? Poison?"

Edward laughed. "No and no. I thought drowning would do us in for sure, but no. The water is just… repelled, somehow. Poison is eliminated from the bloodstream before it can do any damage. We're immune to magic, and silver bullets don't work, either, not like it does on regular werewolves. Or vampires. The only thing known to have the potential of ending us is a well-placed bite or scratch from one of your folk, as far as I know."

"Us folk? You mean Ancients?"

"Uh-huh. And vice versa. Didn't you know? Odd. Every Wolf is aware of the fact. Hence the blatant distrust between Wolves and Ancients. That's why our two races loathe each other, lad. How can you not know that?" he asked again, his bushy brows knit together.

"No one saw fit to mention it, apparently," Tony muttered darkly. Damn them all. How had they not deemed it important enough to tell him?

"Well, if you were to bite me, say, right in the throat, it wouldn't regenerate. I'd bleed to death." He chuckled suddenly. "Of course, you'd have to _reach_ my throat first. I doubt you would, unless I allowed it." He made a dismissive gesture. "That's purely theoretical, anyway. So far we've managed to avoid conflict that would degenerate to the point where we'd kill each other, thankfully." He rose from his seat. "Now, do you mind if I wander around the woods for a bit? Always been curious about magical creatures."

"Um… sure, but some are not exactly friendly, you know. Especially the Spriggans, at this time of year."

"That's alright. They won't bother a full-fledged werewolf, now will they?" Blackbeard said with a feral smile.

* * *

Evey woke up late in the afternoon, feeling hungry. Walden wouldn't be up for another hour or two, so she put on some pyjamas and went downstairs.

It was good to be home. Although she had only been at the manor once before, she already felt like she knew the place, like she belonged here.

She almost had a heart attack in the middle of the stairs when Walden's great-granduncle suddenly materialised and nearly floated through her. He had died forty years ago, after his cauldron exploded, and his ghost never left the house. Most of his face and neck was gone, which made it impossible for him to speak, so Evey simply waved at him and then continued on her way.

Antonin was reading _The Quibbler_ in the couch, and Silverclaws was eating some of the remaining cake and studying the portraits of Walden's ancestors which decorated the walls of the living room. The Wolves had spent the night here, as well as Imhotep and Gorgo. They were the only ones who had come by car, and since it had been snowing in the early morning, Walden had offered both couples a room – there were twelve bedrooms in total, so they could have housed all their guests, if necessary.

"Hey," Evey said with a yawn. She peeked outside through the window. "Have you cleaned up already?" There were no traces of the wedding and ensuing party. It had lasted well into the night; the last guests to leave had been Fred and George, around six in the morning.

"No, the house elves did," Tony replied with a shrug. "They insisted."

"Are you sure we shouldn't pay them?" she asked anxiously. "Or give them something, I don't know. I feel terrible, knowing that they worked so hard and are not getting anything in return."

Tony sighed, but he smiled at her. "They're _house elves_ , V. I know Muggle-borns often struggle with the concept, but that's how it is. They're like… eager, willing slaves. I know how it sounds, but…" He made a gesture to signify he couldn't do anything about it. "They're just happy to help."

She took a seat beside him. "Fine. Any cake left, or did you eat it all?" she asked Silverclaws. The werewolf shook his head and pointed toward the kitchen. According to history, the _rōnin_ had died in 1645, at age sixty-one. But the Wolves, unlike the Ancients, didn't need to die to become what they were. As they had explained to her during that long car drive in November, since most of them had been bitten between the age of thirty and fifty, they had to fake their deaths at some point, when the fact that they didn't age became too obvious to their contemporaries. Only Ramesses had been close to death when he was turned, and therefore looked, to put it in Teddy's words, "like a well-preserved mummy". Silverclaws had been turned when he was forty-four, and had faked a fatal illness in the last years of his public life. A dead man that resembled him had been found and buried in his stead, and he had moved on.

"I'll get you a plate," Tony said before she could move.

Silver snorted softly, but he didn't say anything. He was a man of few words. Then again, Ted likely talked enough for both of them. "Where's the pirate?" Evey asked as she sat down on the couch.

"Outside. Wanted to see the beasts."

"He went out there alone?" Silver nodded. "Some of them are dangerous. Does he know that?"

"Sure. He just doesn't care." He grinned suddenly. "We once defeated a Kraken, you know. He'll be alright. He's more resourceful than he looks, and less stupid."

High praise, coming from him. "A Kraken? Did you actually sail with him?"

"Indeed. I was bored, and I needed a new… career, so I joined up with his crew. I only turned him years later. After the Kraken," he added with a smile. "I was quite impressed with him that day."

Tony was back with her cake. "Sometimes I think it would be worth the mess, just to have a taste of it. It smells delicious."

"It's divine," Silverclaws said tactlessly. "Mind if I have another slice?" They both shook their head, and he went to the kitchen.

"I saw you dance with Tonks," Evey told Tony. "I guess yelling at them did have some effect after all."

"It did. But she was mostly trying to make Remus jealous, I think."

Evey frowned. "Remus? Why? Are they…?"

"Well, no. She would like that, but he's against it. Something about being too old and dangerous."

She laughed. "What should I say? I married a vampire twice my age."

"Exactly what she told him, but he refuses to hear it. He says vampires are different, more in control of their urges."

"So she just told you that? You've become her confidant now?" That was unlikely.

"I overheard her and Molly talk about it some time ago," he admitted. "I was trying to get news of the front, but then I got curious. She was angry, but I explained that if they allowed us in their meetings I wouldn't have to eavesdrop on private matters inadvertently."

"And? What did she say?"

"That she'd bring it up with the others. We'll see."

That would be good. She would enjoy some peace and quiet here, some privacy too, but she was tired of being idle, just like Walden and Tony. They wanted to help bring Voldemort down. According to Professor Snape, who was also a member of the Order, the Death Eaters hadn't realised that Antonin was alive, since he'd remained invisible the whole time he was at the Ministry in June, and they now believed Walden was dead as well. Furthermore, it seemed Greyback had not revealed Evey's existence to Voldemort – not that she had expected him to, but it was still good to have confirmation. In any case, it meant that nobody would be looking for them and that there was therefore no reason for them to be stuck indoors.

"Where are the others?" she asked. "Imhotep and Gorgo?"

"They went down to the village. There's a Christmas market all weekend." He stood up abruptly and clapped his hands. "Now, let's get down to business." He indicated the pile of presents on a nearby table. "I've been dying to unwrap them for hours."

"Um… you know, technically, they're for Walden and me, so… it might be best to open them when he's around."

"Aw, come on, he doesn't care about the presents. He never did. I always opened his stuff on his birthday when we were younger. Please?" Merlin, he looked like a kid on Christmas Day.

"Alright, go on. Just pick a few, we'll open the rest later."

He practically bounded on the table and selected some packages.

"We didn't get you anything," Silverclaws said. Evey started slightly, because she hadn't heard him come back from the kitchen. He made absolutely no noise when he moved – at least no noise that she could hear. "But you can keep the music stuff, if you want. I have copies of everything in my other flat."

"Seriously? That's amazing! Thank you." She got up to hug him.

He stiffened, but he didn't push her away. "Your scent is truly mesmerising," he murmured.

She stepped back to frown at him. "I keep hearing that. What do I smell like, exactly?"

He cocked his head slightly, and his nostrils flared as he took another whiff. "Cherry blossom." Another sniff. "Tobacco, of the sort Ted is fond of." He closed his eyes to take it all in more fully. "White tea, and the smell of the earth after a downpour."

"So I was not imagining it," Tony said with surprise. Evey and Silver both looked at him questioningly. "When I bit you, last year," he told Evey, "I thought your blood tasted odd. Not like blood at all, in fact. I assumed I was just making up for the lack of diversity in the drinks I'm now allowed to ingest, but…" He trailed off and ruffled his hair. "It was like a blend of coffee, rum and chocolate mint ice cream, all at once, but not in an unpleasant way. As if they were all there but separately. It's hard to explain," he added with some frustration.

Evey nodded gravely. "Greyback said I smelled like Amortentia. I couldn't make sense of it, but now…" She snorted. "Perhaps I also taste like it. It keeps getting weirder, doesn't it?"

Tony chuckled. "Weirder than picturing you as a werewolf? No, I think not." He presented her with a small leather pouch that had seen better days. "I'm not sure if it's a gift, but it was on the table…"

She untied the knot and extracted a tiny vial filled with golden liquid. They all stared at it for a moment. "Is that what I think it is?" Evey finally asked Tony.

"Felix Felicis? That would be my first guess, yes. The colour is quite unique. Is there a note?"

She upturned the pouch, but nothing came. She opened the vial carefully and sniffed its contents. "No smell. Felix Felicis has no scent, right?"

"Right. But who is it from? It's an advanced potion, so I doubt it was home-brewed. But it must have cost a fortune! Even a teeny vial like that must be worth hundreds of Galleons, if not thousands."

Evey shook her head. She had no idea, but it would certainly prove useful in the future, if they ever faced Voldemort and his cronies in battle again.

And then perhaps no one would have to die. Again.


	55. Secrets breed paranoia

They had initially planned to spend a quiet Christmas Eve at the manor, just the three of them, but at Mrs Weasley's implacable insistence they finally agreed to join the others at the Burrow for supper.

Remus was there, but he was the only member of the Order present. Evey decided to sit beside him.

"We didn't get a chance to talk since I got back," she said. "Tony told me you worked hard on getting information regarding my situation, despite the obvious danger to yourself. He says you were infiltrating a pack?" That was what Mrs Weasley had told them, but they didn't know whose pack or why, for that matter. What were they hoping to achieve? The werewolves were unlikely to help their cause, whether or not they belonged to Greyback. Society had been hard on them; it always had been. She hadn't needed Jabbar or Croyd to tell her that. At least hunting and killing them was illegal now – in most countries.

According to Scabior, the werewolves of Great Britain were divided in three categories, each roughly equivalent in numbers. There was Greyback's pack, largest and foremost in the British Isles, and possibly in Europe; there were the werewolves who belonged to other, smaller packs (of which there were about forty, scattered across the country); and finally, there were the lone wolves, who were not affiliated to any pack and lived a solitary existence, for the most part.

The lone wolves, or rogues, as pack wolves called them, were unlikely to take part in the present conflict unless they were to gain something from it. Voldemort, of course, knew that very well and had acted on it during the First War. It had been one of Walden's first tasks to recruit them. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort started recruiting them this time around, if he hadn't done so already. He would promise to allow them to live as they wished, without constraint. It had worked the first time, so there was no hoping they would turn him down now. They were like mercenaries, keeping to themselves in times of peace but selling themselves to the highest bidder in a crisis. Of course, there were some who were different, like Remus, who thought of the bigger picture. A few had even abandoned their packs to ensure their families' safety. After being cloistered at Asgard for so long, that last part didn't make much sense, she had to admit. Pack members always looked out for each other and for their families, although having children was not exactly a common occurrence among werewolves – for good reason, since the odds of giving birth to a healthy child were down to 50%.

The werewolves who belonged in other packs were not likely to act unless they were compelled to do it. They preferred to keep to themselves; they helped each other out and made do with what they had but rarely involved themselves in affairs that did not directly affect them. They would turn down Voldemort for as long as they dared, but Greyback might be enough to convince them to join the dark wizard's ranks. They hated Greyback, true, but they feared him more than they despised him. And if an Alpha decided to go over, his pack would follow.

And of course the Order had little to offer to either of those categories. They couldn't keep them safe from Voldemort or Greyback, and they could make no promise for a better treatment in the future.

"I was trying to recruit them," Remus admitted with a sigh. "Being accepted by the pack alone took me weeks, however. They still don't trust me, for the most part. I've been away too long." He smiled sourly. "I was hoping to join Greyback's pack, to tell you the truth. He was the one who turned me, so I thought he might be more compliant. But no one would let me know where he is, or how to find him. They hate him, you know. But they are also terrified of him, even the pack leaders."

"Which is probably why they hate him," Evey pointed out. She already knew all that. Greyback had been quite frustrated with these other Alphas who, according to him, wouldn't submit to him because they were too prideful, and that was why the wizarding world refused to grant them any right, because they were not united. He often threatened to take over their packs, but had never followed through with his threats.

Remus nodded gravely. "He could be a true leader, if he wanted to," he murmured. "I hate him for what he did to me, you understand, but in spite of that… he could shake things up, if he bothered to do it properly. If he sought the people's respect, not their fear; if he tried to communicate, instead of sending messages via the trail of bodies he leaves in his wake…"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I told him and his pack." To no avail, but she had.

"It's too late now, of course," Remus went on sadly. "He should have done that from the beginning. His alliance with Voldemort during the First War destroyed any chance of ending the werewolves' stigma, and his continued loyalty to the wrong side is making it worse, even now. He has likely doomed us all." He shook his head. "You are too young to know what it was like during the war, and in the years that followed. When Voldemort was brought down by Harry, we celebrated for weeks, but that is only the part people want to remember. There was a long period of paranoia, of general distrust as the remaining Death Eaters were hunted down. And since Greyback had so publicly declared his support for Voldemort, and because his pack was so large, the rest of the world lumped all the werewolves together. What little betterment we'd earned for ourselves before the war was annulled, as if it had never existed at all. We were back to where we were in the Middle Ages, or near enough."

"That must be what prompted Belby to create the Wolfsbane," Evey said. "To allay the general backlash following Greyback's treason."

"Indeed. Belby's grandfather was a werewolf, you see. I believe he was assaulted in the aftermath of the war, and badly injured, because his attackers employed silver." He exhaled deeply. "Unfortunately, for all that it is quite effective, the potion is too difficult to brew, and too expensive by far. Few werewolves were given proper education, almost none can keep a steady job, and most live in poverty." He shrugged. "The introduction of the Wolfsbane helped, I suppose. A little. What we need now is for it to be made easily and cheaply available to all." He let out a bitter chuckle. "I don't see that happening any time soon."

"But the other werewolves," Evey said, "they're not allied with Voldemort, are they? The ones from the pack you joined, for example."

"Not yet, but Death Eaters are pressuring them on one side, and Greyback on the other. It won't be long until Benjamin gives in. If he doesn't, they'll just kill him and set someone in his stead. One of the rogues, most likely. I received recent tidings that recruiting among their ranks is going well. I don't know why Voldemort even bothers with the smaller packs. He already has half the werewolves of England with him, at the very least."

"Greyback's pack is not exactly at his disposal, though. That's what I've been told, anyway." Scabior said Greyback never sent any of his wolves to do Voldemort's bidding, and wouldn't, unless they volunteered.

Remus didn't say anything for a minute. He appeared to be considering. "He likes to give his subordinates the illusion of free will," he said eventually. "But make no mistake," he went on earnestly, leaning forward in his chair. "They are being misled. He's using them to get what he wants, although exactly what that is I have only the vaguest idea. He plans in the long run, but in the end they are mere pawns." He scowled faintly. "Did he tell you anything that might help the Order? I'll understand if you'd rather not discuss what happened when you were there, but any scrap of information you might have gleaned could be useful."

She thought it over for a moment then glanced at Tony. He was looking at them, obviously listening in on their conversation. Should she tell Remus what she knew about Greyback? The Wolves had not made her promise not to reveal their existence, but it seemed implied. How much should she share with the Order? Tony shook his head slightly, as if he'd read her mind. Exposing the Wolves would almost certainly lead to discovering the Ancients. And what was worse, they would find out about _her_.

Could the Order be trusted with that knowledge? She had no reason to doubt Remus, or any of the others for that matter, but she was reluctant to betray the ones who had rescued her. Besides, what advantage would that piece of information yield? Knowing that Greyback was immortal and nigh-on invincible was of little relevance to the conflict at hand, as were her own abilities. It was on Voldemort that they should be focusing. She would take care of Greyback herself, somehow.

"He never discussed his alliance with Voldemort or anything even remotely connected to his plans." That was entirely true and, in fact, she didn't think that Greyback had much insight regarding the dark wizard's intentions. He wasn't a Death Eater, after all. No matter how highly Greyback thought of himself, Voldemort only considered him as a tool, and an inferior, expendable one at that. Of course, Voldemort had no idea what he really had in Greyback, otherwise he would have him locked up and kept under constant watch. He would want to find a way to transfer, extract or contract Greyback's immortality somehow. It was a wonder that Voldemort hadn't realised something was off about the werewolf when he had first captured him, all these years ago. Croyd said they'd done all sorts of experiments on him. How had they not understood that he was more than he appeared?

"Evey…" Remus began hesitantly. He paused to clear his throat. "If you need to talk about what happened, I–"

"I don't," she assured him. "There's nothing to tell. Really." She probably sounded too vehement. She tried to slow her speech. "He didn't do anything to me."

He looked confused. "I just don't get it. Why did he take you? Is it related to what happened last year? He recognised you, and–" He frowned. "But why _take_ you? Why not kill you? Is it possible that he or Voldemort had something in mind for you? But what could it be?" He chuckled weakly. "I mean, you are a gifted young witch, Evey, but you are not the only one, and you're Muggle-born besides. Why _you_?"

Her choice was now between an outright lie or the honest truth. If she remained vague, he would know she was hiding something, and if she lied… Could he tell when people lied? Scabior had explained that a werewolf's senses remained sharper even in human form if he didn't take Wolfsbane for a long period of time, but Croyd had added later that it was only true of the wolves who had been turned by Greyback himself. Jabbar and he, for example, did not share that particularity with Greyback's second. Evey assumed it was because of the Wolf blood.

She looked toward Tony again, then turned to Walden, who sat next to her. He hadn't said anything, but he had been listening, she was certain.

"The Order ought to know," he whispered. "What's the point of keeping it secret?" he asked Tony. He was speaking very softly; she could barely catch his words, but that wouldn't matter to Antonin.

"Keeping what a secret?" Remus asked. His tone was cool. Well, apparently he did benefit from a keener sense of hearing, at least.

Evey shifted in her seat to face him again. His face had hardened, and he looked angry. "We'll tell you everything if you include us in the Order's meetings," she told him on a whim. That sounded a lot like blackmail, but what the hell. She was bluffing, in any case. Mrs Weasley could easily explain everything, but Remus didn't know that. It was worth a try.

He was silent for a long time, so long that she just shrugged and turned back to her husband.

"There will be a meeting after the holidays," Remus let on eventually. "I'll talk to Dumbledore."


	56. Glad we straightened that out

"Can't believe it took a year and a half before we're finally allowed to attend a bloody meeting," Walden muttered as they walked toward the main gate of the property, to the spot where they could Disapparate from. "There's so much we could have done already."

"Like what?" Tony asked wryly. He felt as frustrated as his brother for being left out for so long, but what was the use of complaining about it, especially now?

"I could have negotiated with the Giants myself, for one thing. I speak their language, so I might have had more luck than Hagrid," he replied sullenly. "We could have tried to recruit some vampires. Maybe talk to the werewolves who don't belong to Greyback's pack, too. I know most of the other Alphas."

"That's what Remus has been doing," Evey pointed out.

"With little results," Walden countered.

The other two shrugged. "You can't really blame them," Evey told him gently. "They had good reason not to trust you. Either of you."

"And if Voldemort had gotten to us, if we'd been captured," Tony went on, "it would have been a disaster. We know too much, and you are well aware that he has ways of obtaining the information he wants." He himself was too good an Occlumens to have his mind overtaken, even by Voldemort, but Walden was another matter. Now that he thought about it, it would be a good idea to teach Evey the basics, just in case. He would bring it up later, when they got back.

"But any member of the Order could be taken and interrogated, with the same result," Walden retorted. "And what does it matter if they realise I'm alive? They already know I went over to Dumbledore." They had reached the area that was not warded against Apparition and they paused at the gate for a moment.

"Wal, it's no use bringing this up now," Evey told him. "Just be glad that they're letting us participate at last."

Walden snorted. "Do you really believe they will let us do anything?"

"What do you mean?" she asked him with a frown.

"They want to know what happened to you. How you escaped. They want to pry out what we're hiding from them. I doubt they'll send us on missions. They still don't trust us, you know, whatever they might say when we get there."

Evey reflected on it for a minute. "Well, it's about time they knew everything, don't you think? I'm sure they'll understand why we kept it secret for so long, and when they see that we're willing to be completely honest, they'll accept us."

"No offense, but that sounds incredibly naïve," Walden muttered.

She smirked. "Are we seriously going to fight over this? At least let us get there first and see what they want. Then you can call me naïve, if you're proven right."

They had discussed it at length the previous night and they had all agreed that it was time to reveal the existence of the Wolves and Ancients to the Order. It was simply too important: what if the Wolves who had refused to help rescue Evey decided to join Greyback and form an alliance with Voldemort? They had to be prepared, if it ever came to that. And they had to know about Tony, and Evey, although both were still reluctant to let anyone else know. But it was necessary. There was too much at stake; secrecy was a luxury they couldn't afford any longer.

They materialised at the Burrow a few seconds later and Evey knocked on the door. Molly asked her a question – they each had a personal question and answer that served as password and proved they were who they claimed to be – and they were allowed inside when Evey gave the correct answer.

They were among the first to arrive; only Arthur and Bill were sitting at the table. Molly offered them tea, which Tony refused with a grumble. She knew he couldn't drink anything but human blood, so why did she keep asking? Evey and Walden both declined as well, probably for his sake.

There was a knock on the door before they had time to take a seat. Tonks, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in soon afterward, and Remus was close behind them.

They were waiting for Dumbledore and Snape, Arthur said after they'd exchanged all the adequate social niceties and everyone was settled down, with tea and biscuits for those who were lucky enough to be able to ingest them.

It was another half hour before the Headmaster and the former Potions Master joined them. Snape was his usual austere, greasy-haired self and sat down at the end of the table without a word while Dumbledore greeted everyone warmly and gratefully accepted Molly's offer of a cup of tea.

"Mr and Mrs Macnair," Dumbledore said jovially, "thank you for joining us today. And you, Antonin." He smiled at them all in turn, his blue eyes twinkling, before pursuing. "I'm afraid this meeting will not be particularly exciting, as there seems to be very little to report." He shifted his piercing gaze to Evey. "But perhaps we will begin with something that should have been discussed weeks ago." He gestured toward her. "Evey, would you please let us know what transpired during your captivity at the hands of the werewolf known as Fenrir Greyback?"

"Known as?" Bill repeated with a frown. "Why? It's not his real name?"

Evey shook her head. "No, but I don't know what it is."

"What _I_ would like to know," Moody cut in, "is how you escaped." He cocked his head toward Lupin. "By all accounts, Greyback's… pack… numbers in the hundreds. How did you get past them, girl? Or did you magic your way out of there, somehow? I'm also inclined to think that the place is heavily warded, as indicated by the fact that no information could be extracted from the werewolves that were interrogated."

" _Who_ were interrogated," Tonks corrected him almost distractedly. Remus glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the retired Auror.

Moody made a dismissive gesture and fixed Evey with both his normal eye and the magical one. That device was quite ingenious; Tony wished he could study it. "How _did_ you make it out of there?"

This was odd. What exactly had Molly told them? Tony had assumed that she'd already made up some likely story for the others. She was probably tired of covering up for them, and no wonder.

"She didn't escape on her own," Walden replied coolly. "We asked for help."

"And how did you do that, lad, what with you two being confined here at the Burrow?" Moody's enchanted eye was searching the three of them in turn. Not for the first time, Tony wondered if it could see through solid matter, such as their clothes. It was a disturbing thought.

"Did you really believe I'd just sit here while you were doing nothing to find her?" Walden countered scornfully. "Of course we bloody well went out. Every fucking night." Funny how his Scottish accent was always more pronounced when he was angry or upset, just as it had been when he was a child.

"Hey," Tonks interjected, "that's not fair! Walden, we did everything we could to find her. Remus went out of his way to get information, at great risk to himself."

"And how did you expect _that_ to work?" his brother went on. What was he doing? They hadn't come here to put the blame on anyone. What would be the point? Evey was here now, and safe. Walden glared at Remus. "I'm sorry, mate, but you just don't cut it as a werewolf. It's a wonder you even managed to be accepted in a pack, even one as rubbish as Ben's." Benjamin Blackwood was the Alpha of the Oxford pack. Apparently, Walden had had dealings with him in the past, seeking help to apprehend some rogue werewolves, most likely. His brother turned to Tonks. "All the packs in England wouldn't dare go after Greyback even if they were working together, but you expect _him_ , alone, to do it? This is–"

Evey abruptly put a hand on his good arm. "Cut it out," she whispered through gritted teeth. "What the hell are you doing? He's not to blame, and you know it. Remus couldn't have found me even if he had every single Alpha in the whole damn world at his back. You _know_ that."

Walden opened his mouth to retort but clearly thought better of it when Evey kicked him in the shin. His jaw closed with an audible _clack_ , although he still glowered at her.

Evey gave him a last warning look before directing her attention to Remus. "Sorry about that. It's been difficult for everyone." That was a mild word for it. She turned to Moody. "I'm afraid answering your question will necessitate a few… contextual elements," she told him apologetically.

She proceeded to tell them everything, just as they had planned. It took a long time, and she was often interrupted by questions, mostly by Moody, Tonks and Remus; the latter looked dumbfounded when she explained that she'd survived a werewolf bite and actually gaped at her when she later announced that she'd transformed into one. Dumbledore didn't speak at all. He was listening intently, eyes focused on Evey. _So much for him supposedly already knowing most of it_ , Tony thought. Perhaps the old wizard was not omniscient after all. Snape remained silent as well and affected a bored, unconcerned expression throughout the whole explanation. Arthur and his son looked shocked, but they didn't interfere.

When Evey came to the actual planning for her rescue – if it could be called a plan – she turned to Tony. "Maybe you should tell that part. You were there, and you're less likely to grumble about the whole thing," she added with a pointed look to her husband, who pretended not to notice.

Tony obliged, although there wasn't much to say. The essential had been covered.

"So Greyback – or whatever his name is – is in fact a werewolf of supernatural abilities, and he is immortal and near-indestructible," Shacklebolt summed up the part that apparently bothered him the most. Evey nodded. "And there are thirteen others like him."

"Yes, but as I said, only Greyback follows Voldemort. Well, in Greyback's mind, he's not a follower. He considers himself above everyone else. He actually referred to himself as a god-like being once," she said wryly.

Shacklebolt waved that away impatiently. "If they don't work with Voldemort, they might help us," he went on, addressing Dumbledore. "The vampires as well. They've already helped one of us, so we have reason to believe they are opposed to Voldemort."

"No, that's not quite right," Tony told him. "They don't support or oppose anyone. They don't take part, neither the Wolves nor the Ancients." This was precisely what he'd been afraid of. It was one thing to let the Order know, but they couldn't afford for the werewolves or the vampires – especially them – to find out about it. They'd given no names, of course, but this was still enough to get them executed. They had to see that. "If you involve them, or even attempt to contact them, they're more likely to destroy you and Voldemort alike in a fit of annoyance. They _cannot_ know that you know. I thought she'd made that clear," he went on, indicating Evey. "We thought you ought to know about the Wolves, in case some of them decide to join Greyback, though it's unlikely, but the Ancients… we gave you that information out of courtesy, not because we think they can help us win the war. They will not."

"But that's ridiculous!" Tonks cried. "Kingsley is right, they have already involved themselves. And it concerns them as much as it concerns us," she continued. "If Voldemort takes over the country, who knows what will happen next? He won't be satisfied with that. He wants to rule the world, to rid it of all _impure races_. We're _all_ concerned, immortal or not."

"Besides, Voldemort seeks to avoid death," Kingsley went on. "If he learns that there are immortal beings who roam the earth, it's only a matter of time before he hunts them down. And he will, sooner or later. Greyback will mention it, or he'll have the knowledge extracted from his mind. I daresay they are in more danger even than we are."

Tony shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no. That's all wrong. For one thing, you can't use magic against Greyback, in case you'd forgotten. Or didn't know. Not sure if it's common knowledge," he wondered aloud. Evey cleared her throat and he blinked. "Yeah. Anyway. He won't tell Voldemort, you can be certain of that. He's not stupid. And he doesn't like Voldemort, let alone trust him."

"Do you not see?" Walden put in. "He's using Voldemort as a springboard for his own takeover. He doesn't care about blood purity and all that shit. All that matters to him is the cause, as he calls it – the werewolf cause."

"Though he can use magic," Evey explained more calmly, "Greyback despises the wizarding world at large. He blames witches and wizards for the past and on-going poor treatment of werewolves, for the dreadful lives they must do with." She glanced at Remus. "He's not wrong on that account, obviously, but he's going about it the wrong way, as I'm sure you'll agree."

Remus nodded. "As I've said before, they need a true leader, someone who can make things better without angering the rest of the world." He frowned suddenly. " _We_ need a proper leader," he amended in a low voice.

"I'm sorry, Remus, but this is not what we need to concentrate on right now," Kingsley said quietly. He leaned forward slightly and addressed Tony. "These Ancients, they are _your_ people. They allowed you to fight alongside us, and they already gave us assistance. What makes you think they would refuse an alliance?"

"Are you dense, or what?" Tony exclaimed. He was running out of patience. "Do you need to hear it in another language, perhaps? Walden speaks many, if it helps," he said with a twist of the mouth. " _They cannot know_. Three simple words; it's not that complicated. Can you get them into that thick skull of yours?"

"Don't make us regret telling you, Shacklebolt," Walden warned him.

"Mr Shacklebolt," Evey said after throwing them both a dangerous glare, "what they're trying to say is that, regardless of their potential will to help, we must not involve the Ancients, because it's against the rules to reveal their existence to mere mortals, if you'll pardon me the expression. Tony has already put himself at great risk just to save me, and we were lucky to be released with a warning. If they realise we've told anyone else – and a large number of people at that – the consequences could be dire, possibly deadly."

"On the bright side," she went on with a smile, "you have one Ancient on your side, a vampire and… well, me. Surely you can find some use for us?"

"Oh, I believe we can," Dumbledore spoke at last.


	57. So, you wish to master the arcane arts

It seemed they would end up doing the same sort of work they did for Voldemort, just as he knew they would. He had carte blanche to recruit any and all beings and creatures who would join the fight against Voldemort, and Tony was tasked with creating and improving the means at the Order's disposal. That included spells, enchanted objects and, with Evey's help, Muggle devices. His wife was eager to learn from both of them, so instead of working separately on their different projects, the three of them would team up.

But first, because Molly wouldn't allow Evey to be a proper member of the Order until then, and certainly not to go on any mission, she had to learn a few more tricks. Apparating was foremost among them. She was surprisingly bad at it, Walden reflected, which was odd, considering how she seemed to master everything else so quickly. Tony said she was a natural at enchanting, and would make a great wandmaker, if she opted for that career.

In any case, she splinched herself on several occasions, losing two toenails, part of her hair, many items of clothing and even a finger. Thankfully, they were able to reattach everything where it belonged, but Evey was still very reluctant to Apparate on her own. Her lack of self-confidence was certainly to blame, but nothing seemed to help.

So he taught her how to drive instead. It wouldn't take her as far as Apparition could, and it would take more time to get there, but it was still a useful skill, as far as he was concerned. His father always said that Muggles had a lot to teach the wizarding world, something that didn't escape Tony's notice. He'd been the first engineer to ever include electricity in his projects.

They'd bought portable phones for everyone after that first meeting in early January. No one was particularly thrilled by the idea, but Tony made a case that brooked no argument. It was something that Voldemort would not likely consider and certainly not employ, and it was therefore perfect for them. Of course he had other ideas to help everyone communicate easily and safely, but this, he assured them, was by far the most adequate way to proceed.

Teaching everyone how to use the devices took a great deal of time. Tonks and Kingsley were already familiar with the things, but Moody and Molly, more than anyone else, were another matter entirely. Arthur was evidently pleased by the idea, but he was too eager and often mixed up the different settings. Even Dumbledore agreed to be showed how to use the phones, and he somehow convinced Snape to get one. By the end of January, everyone was at least able to make calls and send text messages, which was really all they would need the devices for. Tony had magicked the phones to respond only to their owners, and there was a different password to unlock them all. He'd also ensured that they would work inside Hogwarts.

When that was dealt with, they focused on training Evey, as per Molly's… request. His wife had learned much about offensive and defensive spells from their practice sessions with Sirius the previous year, but she still lacked knowledge of fundamental spells, the sort that any person fighting against Voldemort should know. Now that it was clear that the Dementors were doing the Dark Lord's bidding, being able to cast a proper Patronus Charm was essential. Because her mind was likely to be filled with sad, upsetting memories, Walden had been afraid that she would have trouble with that as well, but she proved him wrong on that count. Unsurprisingly, her Patronus was a fox, which caused her to once again ask him to tutor her in becoming an Animagus. What was the point of turning into a fox when you could be a werewolf? She replied that a fox was much more likely to be overlooked than a gigantic, deadly-looking wolf. He couldn't really argue with that.

So they set out to do just that, although he knew it would be a long time before she could achieve a complete transformation, no matter how quick she was to learn. It had taken him years.

Another useful skill against Voldemort was Occlumency, but there wasn't much Walden could teach Evey about that. He sucked at Occlumency, he always had. Tony agreed to give her lessons, but he insisted that they be sparse, because Legilimency often left the subject in distress, even if they managed to block some of its effects. That was particularly true in Evey's case, considering everything she'd been through.

When you added taking care of the magical creatures that inhabited the woods behind the house, that didn't leave them much time for anything else during the winter and early spring, especially with him being forced to lie down every day. Tony was as busy as they were. He was working on a secret project, he said. He spent most of his days in his old workshop, in the garage, doing Merlin knew what. Once he had an idea, nothing would distract him from it until he'd brought it to completion.

* * *

The prosthesis was done.

It looked fucking badass, if he did say so himself. He'd fabricated it out of sycamore, the same wood used to make Walden's favourite wand, and he'd carved all sorts of magical enchantments upon it. It couldn't catch fire, couldn't be detached unless at its owner's word, and it could be used to cast spells, just like a regular wand. He'd taken the expression 'wand arm' to a whole new level.

And of course, it could be moved like a flesh arm, hand and fingers included. Otherwise there wouldn't be much use for it.

He was quite pleased with himself, he had to admit. It wasn't the first time he'd thought of replacing missing body parts with wand wood in the hope that it could be employed like a wand, but this was the first prototype ever made, as far as he knew.

And he could never claim credit for it.

But that was alright. At least Walden would have a proper arm once more. Evey should be happy, too. That was all that mattered.

* * *

"So, what's new?" Evey asked Ted. "Any word on Greyback?"

It was early June and to her bitter resentment the sun remained longer and longer in the sky, leaving her with only a few hours in her husband's lucid company. When this was all over, they would move to Antarctica, she'd decided, unless Tony came up with something that allowed Walden to walk out in the sun. He'd been working on that, now that the prosthesis was done. Considering the sheer genius he'd put into the device, she wouldn't be surprised if he _did_ come up with something to resolve the sun issue.

They hadn't done much to help the Order so far; Mrs Weasley had insisted that Evey learned countless spells and skills before she could even set foot outside, and as a result the men had spent most of their time with her at Macnair manor. She still couldn't Apparate very well, but at least she could drive. Tony said she was a good enough Occlumens, when she put her mind to the task at hand. Her Animagus lessons were going quite well, although she still had a long way to go before she achieved a full transformation. She had never imagined it would be so difficult, so time-consuming, and so damn _painful_ , although Walden assured her it would get better with time and practice. At least turning into a werewolf was painless, although it did feel like being quartered. She'd practiced being a werewolf a few times, to get used to her enhanced senses and learn how to move about when she was so large. It was amazing how strong she was in that form, how fast. At Tony's request, she had attempted to combine her two 'powers' by turning herself invisible while transformed, but that hadn't worked, unfortunately. An invisible werewolf would have made an even deadlier weapon, as Walden had pointed out.

All they'd achieved up until now was to recruit Silver and Ted to find werewolves who might join their side and look for Greyback while they were at it. The two Wolves were apparently in-between lives, meaning they'd recently abandoned their latest occupations and place of residence to figure out what they would do next and where they would go. They did that every ten of fifteen years, apparently, and usually remained in London in that brief interval – brief to them, anyway; it could last a month or a year, according to Ted. It was easy to blend in with the crowd in the capital.

They didn't seem to mind that Evey had revealed their existence to the Order. They were certainly less secretive than the Ancients. They hadn't been idle; already a dozen rogues had agreed to join the fight against Voldemort. They had approached several Alphas as well, but to no avail. Though Greyback was temporarily out of the picture, his mere existence still haunted their fearful minds. They wouldn't move against him, not openly at least. Most of the pack leaders had however agreed to let them know if the Wolf was seen or heard from.

"Whiptail received a lead a week ago," Ted replied, "but it got him nowhere, as usual." Evey knew that the old Wolf, who worked in some American law enforcement agency with a wizarding branch, had sent an APB worldwide to find Greyback, but he had eluded them so far. Grigori Rasputin, Greyback's maker, was being equally slippery.

"I went back to Asgard again," Ted went on with a grimace at the ridiculous name, "but I picked up no sign of him. The kid – Scabior? – said he'd got no news, either, and I don't think he was lying. He doesn't like us, but he's smart enough to know trying to deceive us would have dire consequences."

"So he's abandoned them." That didn't sound like Greyback. Did he even know she was gone? She had assumed he would be furious when he found out, and would probably take it out on her by mutilating himself. But there had been no case of phantom wounds since her escape. Perhaps he truly did not know. Yet.

"They're doing fine without him," Ted said reassuringly.

Well, she wasn't worried about that. Scabior was a capable leader, and they were certainly safer without Greyback around. What she feared was the Alpha's reaction when he realised they had let her go, and what use Voldemort might make of them if he found out their guardian was gone. After all, if the wizard had helped ward the place, as Greyback had implied, it was safe to assume he could access it. There was nothing they could do about it, however. Scabior had refused to join the Order, despite her offer to protect them against Greyback and Voldemort both. If Greyback could acquire a large, disaffected building and turn it into a safe harbour, so could she. But the Alpha's second was being his usual stubborn self. He claimed Greyback would sort this all out when he came back. He seemed certain that he _would_ come back.

She certainly hoped he would. She had a debt to settle with him, and a curse to lift.


	58. Jamais je ne t'oublierai

They received a text message from Minerva McGonagall in the middle of the night, when they were having lunch. ' _Trouble at Hogwarts,_ ' it read. ' _Come at once_.' They'd each taken a drop of Felix Felicis before leaving, at the risk of wasting it. That turned out to be the best idea any of them had that night.

The castle was deadly quiet when they Apparated in front of the gates, but they saw flashes of light coming from the Astronomy Tower. There was a battle going on there. They ran.

They didn't meet anyone in the halls until they reached the thick of the battle. There were people everywhere, some lying on the floor. It was dark, unnaturally so, and even Tony found it difficult to tell friend from foe.

He caught glimpses of several of his former associates, but even before that, it was Alecto Carrow's wheezy giggle that made him aware that, somehow, Death Eaters had penetrated inside the castle. How in Merlin's name had they accomplished that?

He'd turned invisible, as had Evey, but there was little need. Everyone seemed to be grappling in the dark, although it seemed to matter little to the Death Eaters, and notably Thorfinn Rowle who, some distance away, was whirling around, sending jinxes and curses at every shadow. With luck, he would hit more Death Eaters than Order members.

Tony realised abruptly that there were kids; some of the Weasleys were here, at least – there was no mistaking that hair. He thought he saw Ginny, but she was gone by the time he reached the spot where he'd seen her.

That taller red-haired figure had to be Bill. He seemed to be struggling with something – and now he was on the ground, a much larger shadow looming over him. Tony ran to him.

It was Greyback.

The Wolf turned his gleaming, golden eyes to him as soon as he approached. He must have smelled him. In the brief moment it had taken Tony to reach them, it seemed that Greyback had managed to mess up Bill rather badly.

Magic would be useless against him, Tony knew, so he did the only thing he could think of: he threw himself at the werewolf.

They wrestled for a time on the floor, and Tony heard Greyback's jaw snap shut somewhere very close to his throat, but he managed to shove the Wolf slightly aside, with great difficulty. Greyback was stronger than him, that much was clear, and it didn't matter to him that Tony was invisible, not now that he had a hold on him. He had to move. He had to get away before–

Greyback was suddenly heaved upward. Tony heard him crash against a nearby wall. He rose to his feet to check on Bill: still alive, as far as he could make out. Now to more pressing matters: who could possibly be strong enough to lift a Wolf like that?

"Get the hell out of here!" Jeanne yelled at him, as if he'd asked the question out loud. "You're no match for him, fledgling."

How had she gotten here so fast? How had she even found out that there was a battle going on? She must have hijacked his phone somehow. Or was she having him followed? Well, it was irrelevant at the moment. Judging from the sounds she was making, his maker was having trouble keeping the Wolf at bay. He had to help her.

He heard her screech, then Greyback roared, and this was followed by a very disturbing crunching noise. Jeanne cried out weakly.

Suddenly the gloom was lifted. Greyback looked up at him with a bloody grin. Tony realised he'd unconsciously turned himself visible once more. Jeanne lay still under the Wolf, blood gushing from her throat. Before Tony could move, Greyback ran. He fled with all the other Death Eaters – all except Gibbon, who would never run again.

Tony fell to his knees beside Jeanne. Her blue eye was very wide and unfocused, and she seemed to be gasping for breath – which was simply ridiculous, since she didn't breathe. The amount of blood was disconcerting. Why wasn't she regenerating? Then he remembered Blackbeard's words, a few months earlier. _Only an Ancient could kill a Wolf, and vice versa._ "No, no, no," he murmured. He placed his hand gingerly on the wide gash to slow the flow of blood. "Jeanne, tell me what to do. Tell me how to stop the bleeding." He glanced up at her face. "Jeanne?" She was absolutely still, her eye staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, mouth slightly ajar. Reflexively, he felt for a pulse, before he remembered that she had no heartbeat. How could she be dead, if she was _already_ dead? It didn't make any fucking sense. Feeling a wave of panic rising inside him, he slapped her. "Come on! You can't _die_ , Jeanne. You're a bloody Ancient, burn you. Jeanne!" No response. " _Tu peux pas mourir_ ," he snarled in mediocre French. "You can't–"

He started suddenly. Someone was calling him – no, summoning him. He stood up hesitantly and realised Evey was there. She looked bedraggled, her blouse a bright crimson, but she appeared unhurt. "Tony, I'm sorry," she whispered, patting his arm.

He tried to talk, but his feet were moving of their own accord, carrying him away rapidly. He had to answer the summons.

* * *

She rose from her seat with a piercing scream, feeling as if a part of her had been torn away and ripped to shreds. _Jeanne_.

She sought her child with her mind, sought her _awareness_ of her, but she found nothing there. There was nothing to be found.

No! It was impossible. She couldn't be gone. She couldn't be _dead_. Malkoran wouldn't _dare…_! After all these years, all these cursed _millennia_ , why would he hurt her so, why _now_?

She was sobbing, she realised. She hadn't shed a tear in centuries, perhaps more, not since her last attempt at taking her own life had failed.

She had to calm herself. She took a long, unnecessary breath. It often helped, despite the futility of the gesture. What to do? She couldn't track Jeanne, now that she was… gone.

 _Antonin_. Yes. He might know what had happened. She summoned him. He shouldn't be long – that was the perk of being a wizard.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later and she dismissed her servant impatiently. The boy looked like death itself. He was even paler than usual. His arms and hands were covered in blood. "Get in," she said briskly. She walked to the front room, knowing he would follow. She fell lightly in her favourite chair and ordered him to sit on the couch, across from her. "Tell me what happened," she commanded him. She regretted being so curt, but she couldn't help it. She was beyond herself, although it wouldn't be obvious to anyone but her.

"It was Greyback, Mother." He spoke very quietly, very slowly, as if he were in a trance. His eyes were fixed on the table. "There was a battle at Hogwarts, and he… he was there. He attacked a friend of mine, and I tried to stop him." He gave an involuntary shudder. "He was too bloody strong. I thought he was going to crush me, but then something lifted him off of me. It was dark, but I heard Jeanne call out to me. I… I wanted to help her, but I couldn't see, and it was over so fast…" He cut off abruptly, shuddering harder than ever. He was crying, she realised. She rose from her seat to join him on the couch and she held him for a long time.

She didn't feel like crying anymore. Her cold, dead heart was filled with sorrow and grief, but she had found the culprit. She let outrage and fury fill her instead. When she got her hands on him, this Greyback character would regret ever being born.

"You can't kill him," Antonin murmured.

She released her grip on him and frowned darkly. "Are you telling me what to do, boy?"

"Mother, Evey's linked to him. If you kill him…"

By the gods! She had forgotten about that. That cursed girl again. She had caused more trouble in the few months she'd been aware of her existence than anyone she'd ever known. And now she would deprive her of revenge? "Antonin, Jeanne was your maker," she hissed. "She was my _child_. We owe it to her to avenge her death. As for your little… improbable _being_ , for lack of a better word… she is the least of my preoccupations."

"Well she's not the least of mine," he retorted with sudden anger. The boy reminded her of Malkoran, sometimes. He was always so amiable, so mellow, and yet all who had seen him in a fit of temper had suffered for it. "She's my sister by law, and my best friend, and I'll do many stupid things to avoid her getting hurt, including attacking you, if it comes to that." His eyes glowed with passion. This wasn't an idle threat, although he would soon realise that there was nothing he could do to harm her, if he proved stupid enough to try.

"I suggest you moderate your tone, fledgling," she told him coolly. "Let us both calm down, shall we?"

He stood up, obviously eager to get away from her. He walked up to the window. Dawn was still hours away. He was ruffling his hair and muttering under his breath, but she paid him not enough attention to catch what he was saying. Truth be told, she wouldn't harm the girl if there was a way around it – some of her other children had taken a clear liking to her – but Greyback _had_ to be held accountable for his actions. She would not let this pass. For that matter, she couldn't fathom why Malkoran was leaving him be. He was a danger to them all.

Her path was clear. She had to find Malkoran and force him to take part, to be the leader his Wolves needed.

For that, she would have to be civil to him.

 _This is going to be pleasant_ , she thought wryly.

* * *

Tony came back an hour after he ran off, after his maker met her end at the hands of Fenrir fucking Greyback. The bloody Wolf had been right _there_ , and Evey hadn't spotted him until it was too late. He had fled again and Merlin knew where he'd gone to hide now.

At least he hadn't taken her again. She briefly wondered why he hadn't – he must have sensed her, even if he didn't see her – but decided she didn't care.

Before she could call out to Tony, Fleur and Mrs Weasley both rose to embrace him. It was good that Mrs Weasley had finally accepted Fleur into her family – although it was a shame that it had taken Bill's being savagely disfigured for it to happen. Tony simply stood there as the two women thanked him profusely for saving their son and husband-to-be.

"Looks like I didn't help much," he muttered when they let him get a word in edgewise. He looked terrible.

Bill's wounds appeared grievous indeed, but Madam Pomfrey was confident that he would fully recover. Unfortunately, he would always bear the scars of his encounter with the Wolf. Remus believed that he wouldn't become a werewolf, since Greyback hadn't been transformed when he attacked Bill; it wasn't the full moon, in any case.

"If you hadn't intervened," Remus said quietly, "Bill would be dead."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe." He sidestepped the two women to join Evey and Walden near the cot she occupied. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that Evey lie down, because her blouse was covered with blood and she had thought to find a daunting injury somewhere on her person. There was nothing. Jeanne must have bitten Greyback on the shoulder, or scratched him, and the mirror wound on Evey's body had regenerated quickly – although the pain had been quite real. Still, she was exhausted, after running around wildly, never knowing what was happening, and worrying about everyone as she tried to direct her offensive spells at the right people.

"Are you alright?" Tony asked her anxiously as he sat beside her.

She nodded. "Fine. You?"

"No," he replied truthfully. "Not quite." He took a look around the infirmary. "Where's she?"

There was little doubt whom he meant. "She… um… disappeared, right after you left." She glanced at her husband for help. It was difficult to explain.

"Her body… evaporated, or something like that," Walden said. "As if it was burning, but there was no fire. There's nothing left of her."

Tony frowned slightly. "Right. Well. Everyone else alive?" he asked derisively.

It wasn't like him to be so cynical. He would regret that tone when she announced the dire news. "Dumbledore's dead," she murmured. She still couldn't quite believe it. "Snape killed him."

He looked so crestfallen that she sat up and hugged him. Obviously he hadn't expected that. "Thankfully, at least one good thing happened tonight," she told him in an effort to cheer him up a bit.

He looked down at her darkly. "Yeah, Gibbon's dead, I saw. Should we really rejoice over that, though?"

She shook her head. "Not that." She pointed toward Remus and Tonks. He was holding her waist and murmuring in her ear. "That," she said with a small grin.

Tony snorted. "About damn time."


	59. For what shall it profit a man

_A long, long time ago…_

In the beginning, there were only three. But the three soon became four, and she that joined them last was Ellessin. Malkoran was so moved by her beauty and cunning that, instead of taking her as a slave, as they oft did, he offered her a place at their side.

For in those days they were the masters of all, wherever they went; even to the edges of the world, where the earth meets the unfathomable seas. They were the Rulers, and their very names struck fear and dread in the hearts of even the hardiest of men. Famine and Death, Pestilence and War, the Horsemen, as they were known in present days, for their story had, much later, been turned into myth and legend, and blended with religious nonsense. In the millennia before the Common Era, however, they were named Malkoran and Ellessin, Simfallia and Namtar.

They were gods – or so they called themselves. But to be gods in truth, they lacked an essential trait, for they were not eternal. Mere mortals were they, and soon they set out to seek immortality.

They travelled far and long to reach their destination, and there they met the one they sought: the Ancient Seer, a woman said to be as old as the world itself. And old she was, for her black skin was leathery and much wrinkled; and her hair, so fine and white, was like a cloud upon her brow. Her gnarled limbs did no longer permit her to rise from her cot, and she had no teeth. And yet she was very much alive, and her deep voice was strong and did not tremble. "You have come at last," she said as her great-granddaughter led them inside the hut.

The four looked at each other in surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise: she was a Seer indeed, and they had not been led astray.

"O Ancient One, we have come a great distance to benefit from your knowledge and wisdom," Namtar intoned. "Tell us, Seer, how shall we achieve our objective?"

It was a test, of course. If she didn't know what their objective was…

"Only the gods may grant you immortality," the crone replied without hesitation. There was a malicious gleam in her dark eyes.

"And how may one commune with the gods?" Simfallia asked, her pretty, delicate face alight with eagerness. "How do we summon them to us?"

"Summon them?" the Seer scoffed. "Who are you to summon the gods?"

"We are the Rulers of the World," Malkoran retorted haughtily. "They must have heard tales of our deeds, as all men have."

The old woman's cackle was a daunting sound. "The gods do not concern themselves with the affairs of mortals."

"Is there then no way to reach them?" Ellessin asked, despair rising. "None at all?"

The Seer remained silent for a long moment, eyes closed, so long that they thought she must have gone to sleep. But her eyes flew open as Namtar approached her, and she grinned a toothless grin. "If one truly wished to do so…" She paused then, and Simfallia, impatient as ever, unsheathed her dagger, and moved closer to the crone. Malkoran held her arm, however, and hushed her when she tried to protest. "No mortal man has ever lived to tell of his encounter with the gods," the Seer continued, heedless of the blade in Sim's hand.

"We have lived through more in the past decade than any man ever will in a lifetime," Namtar put in angrily. "We have earned the _right_ to demand a boon from them above."

The old woman smiled again at that, a chilling smile that sent unbidden shivers down Ellessin's spine.

"Now tell us what we wish to know, you withered hag," Simfallia demanded imperiously, waving her knife threateningly.

"Indeed," the bed-ridden crone said sweetly, "there is a way. The gods might be inclined to answer your summons if you were to provide a sacrifice of sufficient worth."

Malkoran scowled. "Have we not provided enough sacrifices over the course of the years? We have spilled the blood of thousands!"

The Seer raised a hand dismissively to denote the insignificance of his words. "Puny weaklings of little value. That will accomplish nothing, Malkoran Devandar." Mal's eyes widened slightly at the mention of his full name. _Devan_ had been the name of his sire, the - _dar_ suffix added to mean 'son of'. Last names were not common, in those days, and rarely used when they existed.

"The only worthy people in the world are _ourselves_ , Wise One. Your advice is therefore useless, for sacrificing ourselves would rather defeat the purpose, would it not?" Namtar told her with a nasty smirk.

"Let us be away," Sim declared suddenly. "The woman has obviously lost her mind – she speaks only in riddles. We will not find our answer here, my friends."

The Seer's evil cackle followed them out of the hut.

* * *

That night, after Simfallia and Namtar had retired into their tent, Malkoran spoke quietly. "You understand what that means, do you not?"

"Of course I do, Mal. I'm not stupid," Elle replied curtly.

"They might be having the same conversation as we speak, my love. Although they never were fast thinkers, it is true, not like you and I." He shook his head. "It matters not. We cannot take the risk to wait. The prize will be granted to those who act first."

"Then let us not waste any time," she said, grabbing her dagger.

"Now?" he asked. "While they sleep?" Even to him, who had murdered countless innocent children in cold blood, the thought of killing their friends, unarmed and unprepared, was shocking. He had some foolish, twisted notion of honour, Malkoran did – twisted indeed, as events yet to come would show.

Ellessin huffed in annoyance. "Would you rather find a knife sticking out of your chest when you wake? There is no time to waste, my heart."

He nodded eventually, and they set out into the night, the moonlight reflecting brightly in Elle's raven black hair.

* * *

Simfallia and Namtar were bound and gagged, and brought out of their tent. Despite their being asleep and taken by surprise, Sim had managed to cut a deep gash in Elle's thigh, and Namtar almost smashed Mal's teeth in his mouth, but in the end the traitors prevailed.

There were no rituals, no written mantras, not in those days. They had to improvise. They gutted Simfallia, spilling her entrails upon the earth, and Malkoran detached Namtar's head from its neck with one swift stroke of his short sword. They burned various leaves and herbs in the fire, and for hours they chanted, words of summons and praise, of appeal and awe, until their throats were sore. And they persevered, deep into the night.

And then They came; not from the Heavens, as the betrayers expected, but from the deep core of the Earth. The ground tore apart beneath their feet with a crumbling sound, swallowing the bodies of the ones they had called friends for over thirteen years.

And She who came first was Lilith, who appeared to Ellessin as a woman clad in red and black; and Her gown was misty and constantly changeable in shape; and Her eyes were bright pits of flames. And She was beautiful, so beautiful that Elle feared for her sight; and yet She was terrible to behold, a figure of might and sheer magnificence. Feeling suddenly weak, Ellessin fell to her knees, prostrating herself at the demon's feet, unable to look upon Lilith's infernal body. She wept in terror, for she knew now that the Seer had tricked them. The old woman assuredly was a demon-worshipper, feeding power-hungry fools to the gods of the Netherworld.

In her distress, Elle caught no glimpse of He who appeared to Malkoran, the demon Fenrir – He who had, by a twisted irony, been turned into a mythological figure of god-like importance, centuries later. Mal never said a word about what transpired between him and the beastly, devilish god, save that their encounter was one he'd rather erase from his memory.

And Lilith said unto her: "I greatly enjoyed watching you perform that pitiful ceremonial, little human. It pleases me that you have betrayed and sacrificed two so close to your heart to achieve your purpose. Rarely have I witnessed such evil, even committed by one of your kind. You amuse me, and have indeed accomplished the improbable in doing so. I shall therefore reward your efforts." She raised a graceful hand, and a great chill came over Elle, and she fell flat to the ground, shaking, her body twisting under the strain and the terrible pain. "You shall receive what you yearned for: eternal life, from which you shall never be released. Endless solitude, a never-ending curse. And in your loneliness, in irrational despair, you shall doom others." She laughed then, and the sound was enough to freeze Elle's blood. "And this man that you hold so dear in your black, wicked heart," – and at this she pointed toward the space where Malkoran must lie; at this point Elle had almost forgotten that he even existed – "shall be your salvation as well as your bane."

And then, as abruptly as She had arisen, Lilith vanished.

When Ellessin finally came to her senses, minutes or hours later, she couldn't tell for certain, Malkoran was lying flat on his back, eyes staring at the lightening sky, for dawn would soon be upon them. For a moment she feared he was dead, but he blinked when she knelt at his side and turned his face to hers. He was white as bone, and trembling with horror or wonder or both. Noting the alarm in her features, he stroked her cheek in reassurance and smiled triumphantly. "It is done."

* * *

They soon discovered that they had been granted more than they petitioned for. They were stronger even than before, faster and more agile; but Mal now craved the flesh of men, and Elle their blood. The humans they preyed upon were transformed in their image, although they were but pale copies.

No wounds, no matter how grievous, could do them lasting harm, for they healed instantly. They were not only immortal, but indestructible. They had paid dearly for their prize, for they had committed the most treacherous perfidy, but indeed it seemed that the reward was worth the cost. They were now gods in truth, gods made flesh and free to roam the world and rule it as they willed.

But the euphoria was short-lived.

For years they lived as kings, and enjoyed the many pleasures the world had to offer, and they prospered, Lilith's words of foreboding and oncoming doom forgotten for a while as the memory of their encounter with the demons faded in their minds.

But then Malkoran committed the greatest crime of all: he broke Ellessin's heart.

' _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_ ': truer words were never written or spoken, and yet they were only devised millennia after the appalling deed was perpetrated.

Upon finding him in bed with another, Elle reacted without thinking: she slayed the woman and then, discarding her dagger, she threw herself at Malkoran, biting and scratching. He did nothing to stop her. He knew he was at fault, and accepted the punishment.

But they were both surprised to see that Mal didn't recover from the wounds Elle inflicted. Indeed the marks remained, and he bled.

Shocked, Elle withdrew, and contemplated the man who held her heart; and she understood then Lilith's words. Only she could undo him, and he her. He was her bane and her salvation.

Despite her rage and sorrow and grief at the loss of their love, she could not bear to do him harm; no lasting harm, in any case.

So Ellessin fled.

For years she wandered aimlessly, and she soon realised that the world was larger than they had assumed; indeed, there were other lands beyond the frightening seas and immense mountains. For she could fly, and she explored the Earth in all its grandeur and diversity. And she met people in her travels, but ever she hid from their sight, for none could understand what she was, what she had become, and all feared her and fled the moment she revealed herself to them.

Centuries passed before she finally gave in to the urge that pressed her to pass on the gift that was also her curse; for she saw now that Lilith had known all along of the crippling loneliness and misery that would sooner or later assail her heart.

And she then vowed to have her revenge on Malkoran; and to accomplish it she would select only the mightiest, most acclaimed men and women to join her in her solitary war.

It all began in Memphis, in the land currently known as Egypt, in the days of the Old Kingdom, as it is now called. It was there that she encountered Imhotep, the first of her children.


	60. It's tough to be a god

Nepal. What was he doing in _Nepal_ , of all places? Talk about easy access. She'd had to _fly_ to the cursed mountains where he'd established himself. According to Whiptail, he lived in a _temple_. An actual temple. With _monks_.

No wonder he couldn't be reached by common means. There was no signal here. Most likely, there was no electricity or running water. Obviously, Mal hadn't made it into the modern world.

She was about to barge inside the temple through the front gate when someone called her name.

"Elle?" It was a soft, accented voice. A voice she hadn't heard in ages.

Composing herself, she turned to him. He had a watering can in one hand and seemed to be tending to the garden. Gods, this was ridiculous. He was even dressed like a damned monk.

His hair was shaved bald, and his once scruffy beard was gone. Apart from that, he was still the same man she'd known from early adulthood, tall and slender and swarthy and beautiful. His face still bore the marks of their last encounter, where she had raked her long nails on his left cheek. His sparkling green eyes looked puzzled. Good. Whiptail hadn't warned him of her coming.

"Mal," she replied casually, as if their last meeting had not taken place millennia ago, and had not ended with her almost tearing him apart.

"You look ravishing." Curse the man! She'd been here less than a minute and already she felt like strangling him.

"I won't ask how you found me," he went on, taking a few steps in her direction. "I'm sure Hannibal had his reasons."

"You don't know, do you?" she thundered. Apparently, Whiptail hadn't told him _anything_. Mal stopped dead and even recoiled slightly at her vehemence. "Your demented cub killed my daughter!" She couldn't contain her anger anymore. She shook with it. This was his fault. If he'd been around, if he'd taken his responsibilities, if he'd _cared_ , even a little, none of this would have happened. He was still the same selfish bastard he'd always been.

"Elle, I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"Fenrir _fucking_ Greyback murdered my child, my precious little girl." She rarely swore, let alone aloud, but if he thought he could get away with it by feigning ignorance... "You useless sod. How could you let them go astray so? I blame _you_ , Mal. Greyback shouldn't even _exist_. He's a monster."

"Aren't we all?" he murmured.

Gods, she _was_ going to strangle him. "Mal," she said, clinging to the shreds of calm that remained to her, "you have no control over your spawns. They have run amok. You have to reassert your position. If you do not, I will have to retaliate. You would leave me no choice."

"Why have you not retaliated already?" he wondered. "It is not like you. Why do you need my permission?"

"Your _permission_?" She almost choked on the word. "I don't need your permission, you self-centred git! I am doing you a favour by coming here. This is a warning, and I must urge you to find the damned beast and keep him on a leash before he does more damage."

He looked thoughtful. "Something is most certainly amiss. I could understand that you have trouble finding him, but you hardly need me for that, as you obviously have the help of my Wolves. Some of them, at least. And yet you would not bother to have a semblance of civil conversation with me unless you needed something from me." He cocked his head slightly, as if to try a different angle of perspective. "Name it, Elle. If it is in my power to give, I will give it to you."

"You fool," she said through clenched teeth. "I have already told you what I want. Get a rein on your cubs, arrest Greyback, lock him up for good." She would have gladly ripped his puny heart out of his chest herself, but there was Evey to consider. They had held a meeting about it, in early July, so great was her indecision on the matter. It had been decided that Greyback should be kept in a safe location, from which he could never escape, preferably under the care of her own people. That would have to be punishment enough, and it would ensure the girl's safety besides. "I mean it, Mal. Don't make me go after the others." She hated to say it, but the rest of them were expendable, as far as she was concerned. Although she wouldn't actually kill anyone unless she was forced to.

"So you would harm the others, but not Greyback. What is so special about him?"

She was damned if she would tell him. She couldn't trust him with that knowledge. Gods, she wouldn't trust him with _anything_. "Always you talk, instead of acting. You were ever the most cowardly of us. I pity you. I pity what you have become." There wasn't much more she could do or say. She had no leverage, and he must have called her bluff, if his shrewd look was any indication. She turned to go. They would have to find Greyback on their own, and deal with him as best they could.

"If I find him for you, will you put an end to it?" Mal whispered as she took the first step down the long flight of stairs.

"An end to what?" she asked with a frown, facing him once more.

"Why, an end to this curse, of course."

"You want to summon them again? Are you out of your mind?" He couldn't be serious. She would sooner burn the whole world to the ground than summon Lilith again. The result might be the same, in any case.

He chuckled sadly. "Even now, death is not an alternative to you," he said. "No, my heart. I want you to kill me."

* * *

He could not keep his eyes off her. Gods be praised, she was here. She remembered him. After all this time, he had assumed she would have forgotten about him, dismissed him as one dismisses a former lover of little import, especially after what he had done. But no. She was here, and she was clearly still furious with him. This was more than he could have hoped for.

Well, she hadn't come for him, not exactly. She was after Greyback. Him again. He had heard that name many times in the last few months, too many times. He was beginning to regret leaving his boys to fend for themselves but, truth be told, he had expected Ramesses and Hannibal to keep an eye on things for him. They were more capable and reliable than he was, or could ever hope to be. That was why he had chosen them in the first place.

"You know," he told her as she stared at him with narrowed eyes, "over the years, I have appealed to several of your people to do just that. They all refused, even sweet, compassionate Gorgo, claiming you'd be angry and would never forgive her. I doubted them, but I see that they were correct in assuming that."

Elle snorted. "They know very little of me, and less of you." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "There's much I've forgotten, Mal. I barely remember my mother's face. But you, that day... it could have happened yesterday. You destroyed me, Mal." That last part was a bare whisper, so low than even he had to strain his ears to catch it.

"Good," he muttered, "then there is hope yet for me."

Her face was thunderous, her dark eyes blazing. "Hope?" she repeated incredulously.

"If it makes you this angry, after all those years, it must mean that you still care."

"Care? For _you_?" she said with a contemptuous grimace. "You think too highly of yourself. I have moved on, Mal. Believe me, I have. You are nothing to me."

"Then I assume it will be no problem for you to accede to my... request. Provided that I find my undesirable offspring," he added, almost as an afterthought. "But I must warn you, Elle: I likely will not. We are not like you. I cannot simply summon him, as you would, and as you pointed out, I have no power over him, or over any of them, for that matter. That is not an exaggeration. I truly do not." He sighed. "Moreover, I do not know his scent, or even what he looks like."

"Well, neither do I," she retorted sharply. "But your Wolves do. Go to them, you idiot. You used to be so resourceful, so full of energy. You used to be a leader. What _happened_ to you, you pathetic oaf?"

"Fenrir happened," he replied softly. That was not quite true. His encounter with the demon had shaken him, admittedly, but their lives had been more than pleasant once they'd recovered from the shock. For a time, they had the world at their feet. He was the one who had ruined it all. He knew it perfectly well, and so did Elle. And she was taking advantage of it.

She sniffed haughtily – and knowingly. "Of course, blame it all on the demon. Wherever he dwells, he must be the subject of many cruel jibes for ever involving himself with you, the poor bastard." She scowled darkly. "As for killing you, I certainly will not. You owe me this, Mal, but I don't owe _you_ anything." She turned around once more. "I trust you will not disappoint. Much depends on this. Whiptail will know where to find me, when you have accomplished your task." With that, she spread her arms wide and flew out in the bright blue sky, before disappearing from his sight as she turned herself invisible.


	61. And death all around will be your dowry

It was a beautiful wedding, granted, but it could never be quite as awesome as her own had been. Well, to be fair, they didn't have Tony to plan it all – he had tried to get involved, but Molly had insisted that he should take some time off, after what happened in June. He'd spent all of July moping around instead. Evey wanted to give him something to work on, but he was always the one who came up with ideas, not her.

Walden would be asleep for hours yet, but Tony and she found themselves sharing a table with Remus and Tonks, which suited them just fine. The two of them had gotten married recently, in secret. Tonks positively glowed with happiness, but Remus appeared just as gloomy as usual. Perhaps he was just tired.

Tony had to come up with some disguise to attend the wedding, of course. Unfortunately, Polyjuice potion could have strange, undesirable effects on dead people, so Evey had picked up a few Muggle items instead. He was wearing an auburn wig, thick glasses, and he had let his beard grow over the last two weeks – something he never did; he was always clean-shaven. She liked him better with the beard though. It made him look less boyish.

They talked about meaningless things for a while, glad for a break in business, especially after what had happened when they smuggled Harry out of his uncle and aunt's house. Alastor Moody's death had been a hard blow, so soon after Dumbledore's murder and Snape's betrayal. Harry had also lost his pet owl, the poor thing. Evey patted Nana as she remembered the snowy owl. She didn't know what she would do if the dog came to harm. They'd all become quite attached to her.

Eventually, they ran out of positive, cheerful topics of conversation. There were depressingly few in those dark days.

There was an awkward silence that lasted a few minutes. She glanced at Tony, who never seemed to be at a loss for words, but he was different now. He had changed since Jeanne died. He was more… mature, somehow. As if he'd suddenly realised that he was in fact 40 years old, and not 25, which was how old he looked – and forever would. It made her sad. Tony being glum and unhappy made everything bad that had happened in the past weeks seem even worse.

"So," Tonks said at length, and bless her for it, "any idea what you'll be doing in the months to come? I assume your… training… is over by now," she added with a tiny smile to Evey.

Evey nodded. "I daresay it is, but I don't plan on asking Mrs Weasley's permission to finally get something done."

Tonks's smile faded. "Considering the present context, we could use all the help we can get. She should realise that. You're as ready as you'll ever be."

"Right. We've talked about it with Walden, of course, but we haven't settled on anything yet. We've managed to recruit some vampires, maybe a dozen, but the werewolf packs still refuse to act against Greyback and Voldemort openly. We have a few rogues, but only a handful of them are wizards. Same with the vampires. For now, we've asked them to spy on known partisans of Voldemort, and the wolves will let us know right away if they hear anything about Greyback and his whereabouts." She sighed. "It's not much, I know. I thought we could visit the Nāga, but Walden says it's pointless. Even if she consented to support our cause, which is unlikely, how would that help us? If she tried to attack Voldemort, she would probably destroy all of England."

"So it's true?" Tonks asked with obvious curiosity. "Walden really saw one of the Great Serpents? Sirius told me about it, but I wouldn't believe him. How big was she?"

"Larger than three Black Hebrideans, and she's often considered to be the smallest of them all," Tony replied. He didn't share Walden's enthusiasm for magical creatures at large, but dragons fascinated him. "The World-Eater is the largest, of course, but thankfully he hasn't given any sign of life since the Big Bang. Then there's the Vesuvius, who lives under his namesake, but he hasn't done anything of worth since he destroyed Pompeii. Anyway, I'm fairly certain they're all dormant, all seven of them, except for the Nāga. At least that's what Walden claims."

"I think we would know if they were awake," Evey pointed out.

Tony nodded. "Indeed. You know, I actually thought of something, last night. What if we sought out the Questing Beast?"

Evey stared at him. "From the Arthurian legends? Why, is it real?"

"Of course it is," Tony replied matter-of-factly. "What do they teach you in school these days?"

"Well, we studied Merlin for hours on end, down to the colour of his underwear, but Professor Binns only vaguely mentioned Arthur. All my knowledge on the subject comes from my Muggle life, I'm afraid. And um, as far as I can remember, the Beast Glatisant was born of incest, and revealed itself when Arthur slept with his sister. And it didn't actually _do_ anything. So… I'm not sure how that helps us," she said dubiously.

The three others burst into laughter at the same time. It was good to see Tony laughing, but she would rather it wasn't at her expense. "What's so bloody funny?" she muttered sullenly.

"Muggles are funny," Tony answered. "How do they even come up with these things?"

"I'd never heard _that_ one before," Remus said with a smile.

Tonks was wiping tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. "Arthur slept with his sister!" she said in a choked voice. "Oh, thank you, V. I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

"Are you going to tell me the true story, or just leave me with my ignorance?" Evey said crossly. It wasn't her fault if Muggles made up silly things like that, burn them!

"Alright, alright," Tony said with a placating gesture. "It's like this: the Questing Beast, as its name suggests, is the object of a quest."

"What quest?"

"No, I mean the Beast _is_ the quest. That's the thing, see. If you find the Beast, and manage to capture it, it must grant you a wish. Arthur, the real one," he clarified with a smirk, "used it to obtain Excalibur."

"But there's more to it," Tonks went on. "To begin your quest, you must follow the path from Avalon, until you reach the Beast's lair. Then it will leap out of the shadows and flee, and you must hunt it down from there."

"According to the manual, three people must set out from Avalon," Remus continued in a tone that reminded her that he had been a teacher, although briefly.

"Wait, there's a _manual_?" This was ridiculous. They were pulling her leg, weren't they?

"Yes, at Avalon. Merlin left instructions, etched in stone," Tony explained.

"But Avalon… where is it? Glastonbury?" she asked with a frown.

"At least the Muggles got _that_ right," Tonks replied with a laugh.

"Yeah." Evey turned to Remus. "Why three people?"

He counted off his fingers. "One to be granted a wish, one whose future must be foretold, and the last to kill the Beast, for it must die before it can be born again."

"It's said that if more people set out, terrible things will befall them and their companions," Tony said mysteriously. "But that's just legend, not fact."

"So… wait. Has anyone actually done this before? Successfully? They caught the Beast, got their wish, and were left alive to enjoy said wish?"

"Uh-huh. In fact, many people have tried to track the Beast over the years, since Arthur and Merlin devised the proper way to go about it, but few have managed to accomplish it, admittedly," Tonks said. "I think the last person to do it was Newt Scamander. He just wanted to study it, though. His wish was that the Beast would keep still while he sketched it. Loony, that bloke was," she added with a shake of her head.

"Well, if that's true…" She glanced at Tony. "That's actually a good idea."

"No need to look so surprised," he grumbled. "I regularly have good ideas, you know."

"We'll discuss it with Walden tomorrow. I assume there's some kind of warning in the manual that says ' _Be careful what you wish for?_ '" Evey went on derisively.

Remus nodded. "Obviously. And if you're intent on this endeavour, you had best be prepared. Tracking the Beast could take days, even weeks, and the path to reach its lair is said to be perilous."

"Of course it is," Evey muttered. "Wouldn't want it to be too easy, now would we? Where would be the fun in that?"

* * *

Walden joined them an hour later, just when they were about to present the cake. It looked delicious, needless to say, and Tony glared at every slice as if it would somehow make them less poisonous to him. If they ever get out of this war alive, he vowed, he would seek out the Questing Beast once more just to demand to be able to eat again.

He'd had other ideas regarding potential allies or anything that might help the Order, in fact, but this was the one that seemed the most likely to succeed – and the less likely to get them all killed. As the subject was brought up again with Walden, however, he couldn't help but mention the next item on his list – one that he had already discussed with his brother, when Evey wasn't around. "How about the Elves?" They all frowned at him, of course, except Walden. He just looked annoyed.

"What, the house elves?" Evey asked. "From Hogwarts? I mean, they're quite helpful, but they don't look like warriors to me," she said doubtfully.

"They could make us sandwiches while we're fighting," Tonks put in with a grin.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Not the _house_ elves, silly. The Elves, with a capital E. Tolkien's Elves."

"But… I thought all the portals to Middle-earth had been closed?" Evey said. "Precisely after they became Tolkien's Elves, if memory serves. They disliked being turned into a story for Muggles, and they considered that he had broken their trust by giving away so much information about their world. I mean, we all know he changed a few details, but still… that was a major breach in secrecy."

Tony nodded. "All true, but I have it on good authority that one portal remains. They couldn't close it, because it was… damaged. As a result, most people cannot go through it, from our side at least," he said. Evey was frowning at Walden and him both in turn.

"Only the dead can go through," Tony added.

"You have _got_ to be joking!" Evey exclaimed. She rounded on her husband. "How long have you known that? How long have you been _planning_ this?"

"And what is your source regarding that information?" Remus asked more calmly. "I've never heard anything about any remaining portal here on Earth."

"The Dwarves," Walden replied reluctantly. "Some of them decided to remain here, instead of going back to Middle-earth, when the Elves announced that they were closing all existing access points. Voldemort wanted me to find them and learn all I could of their trade, but they refused to give anything away. They share nothing with outsiders; they're almost as bad as the goblins. But I got that information out of them, at least." He turned to Evey. "No one's been planning anything, love. It was an idle thought, alright? I mean, we _could_ go through, sure, but what would be the point?" he added, glaring at Tony.

Tony huffed in exasperation. "Isn't it obvious? You reported to Voldemort that a portal remained, so he knows about it, and he knows where it is. The Elves are immortal, right? And Voldemort wants to become immortal. If he decides he wants to take a closer look at them…"

"But we know he has no reason to do that now," Walden hissed. "The Horcruxes?" he added when Tony scowled. "He's already made himself near-immortal. He has no use for the Elves, and that means they have no reason to be worried, and therefore absolutely no reason to come to our aid. Certainly not after Tolkien. For all we know, they'd kill us on sight when they realise where we're from."

"You don't know that for sure," Tony argued. "Maybe they miss us but are too proud to admit it."

Evey snorted. "That's adorable, but I doubt it."

"But isn't it worth an attempt, at least? According to the Dwarves, the portal will send us to the Ford of Bruinen, at the same spot where Frodo supposedly defied the Witch-king of Angmar, in the Muggles' books. That's, what, 20 or 25 miles from Rivendell? Even if we can't Apparate, we would reach the city in less than a night's walk. Then we talk to Elrond, or whatever his real name is, and if he refuses, we'll be back home the next day. We lose nothing in the process, and we have everything to win." He looked at Evey. "I don't need Walden. I can go alone. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"Yeah, right," she said. "I think the sudden quiet around the house would give your absence away, mate." She shook her head. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Tony, but we said we were a team, and that we would operate as one. I just don't like us being separated, whether or not Walden goes with you, not even for a few days. Anything could happen."

Before he could reply, a Patronus in the form of a lynx suddenly popped up inside the tent. After that, everything went to hell.


	62. Never trust a duck

Organising any sort of meeting was becoming increasingly complicated, now that Voldemort and his minions had taken over the Ministry. Walden had insisted that the manor be put under a Fidelius Charm once more, with Evey as its Keeper, since she was the only living human to keep residence there. They cast additional wards, reinforced the ones in place, and made certain that their phones were protected as well, as they had become more useful than ever to communicate with the rest of the Order.

There wasn't much to be done, in any case. Harry had to retrieve the Horcruxes, and he was the best suited for the task. All the others could do was survive, and resist.

Silver and Ted had finally decided where they would start over – in Florida – and to the best of Evey's knowledge no Ancient was in England at the moment. They were on their own. They soon decided that the Questing Beast was their best course of action. At the very least it would keep them busy.

They made preparations, carefully considering everything they might need, even if it seemed superfluous – a simple Feather Charm would make their packs weightless – and resolved to bring Nana with them as well. It would be easy enough for Evey to track the Beast, if she transformed into her werewolf form, but any extra assistance was welcome. Better safe than sorry, as the saying went.

As far as Evey was concerned, the most difficult part would be to come up with a correctly formulated wish. She was afraid that wishing for Voldemort's demise without having destroyed the Horcruxes first would be useless, and there was no point in wishing for their exact locations; Harry seemed to know what he was about in his search for them and had insisted that they leave it to him without interfering. It was his mission, his fate, even, or so Dumbledore had implied. She was inclined to demand that Harry saw his task through without any incident, or to ensure his continued well-being until he did, at least. It was quite the conundrum.

"Can't we just wish for _us_ to survive the war?" Tony wondered. "I know it sounds selfish, but…"

"It _is_ selfish," Evey retorted chidingly. "What's the point of us surviving if Harry dies, and with him all hope of ever destroying Voldemort for good? That means we'd have to spend our entire lives surviving. Is that what you want?"

Tony mumbled something indistinguishable.

"I think you had the right idea, V," Walden said at length. "Wishing for Harry to succeed. Seems the safest course."

"Yeah, but it feels wrong, somehow," she said. "I think we'd be asking too much, and it might backfire on us. We'd be messing with the present, and by doing so we might start a series of completely unpredictable events in the future that could make things even worse. The butterfly effect, or something like that. You know what I mean?" It made a lot more sense in her head than spoken aloud. To her relief, they both nodded.

"But then what? Any wish would have some incidence on the future, wouldn't it?" Tony asked.

"Yes, I know," Evey said wistfully.

They were all silent for a long time.

"Shouldn't we ask the Beast to tell us where Greyback is?" Tony offered eventually.

"Pointless," Walden said. "By the time we get there, he might be gone, and it would have all been for nothing. Even if he was there, what would we do? Evey got him the last time, but he'll be prepared for her now. He's stronger than you, and I'd be completely useless. We don't have the Ancients or the Wolves to back us up anymore, not since they all went silent on us. And we can't ask the Beast to kill Greyback, either," he added with a pointed look in Evey's direction.

Tony ruffled his hair in annoyance. "You know what? I wish I'd never mentioned the damned Beast," he said with a bitter twist of his mouth. "We're not getting anywhere."

"Wait," Walden said. "We can't wish for Greyback's death, but we could wish to know how to break Evey's connection to him, couldn't we?"

Evey snorted. "Yeah, and I bet it'll tell you that you must kill him. Or me."

"Fair enough. Then we ask it how to kill him _without_ killing you," Walden went on.

"But we can't make this about me, Wal. There's a war going on! Look, if we manage to survive long enough, we'll find the Beast and ask just that, but right now we have to wish for something that would help Harry, or the Order."

Walden sighed. "Aye, I guess you're right."

"Here's an idea," Tony said. "How about we depart now and think about it on the way? At least we'll have a proper incentive to come up with something quickly. Let's do this already."

* * *

"My wish is that…" Evey began promptly.

"Now, now, do not be so hasty, little one," the Questing Beast intoned. "Firstly, which one of you will receive my foretelling?"

Bloody hell. Hunting the damned Beast down had only taken them a few hours, thanks to Evey, but reaching the cave where it dwelled had been another matter. They'd met all sorts of creatures on the way, among those a Griffin, a Sphinx, a Manticore and even a fucking Wendigo, of all things. Not to mention the annoying Faun that had followed them the whole time. There were traps everywhere, magical or not. If not for their regenerative abilities, they could have been badly hurt, or worse. And the path itself had been hazardous: they'd had to climb a patch of rocky, treacherous, almost vertical slope; wade through putrid marshes filled with poisonous plants and venomous lizards; and, nearing the end of their journey, they'd had to dive off a waterfall. It seemed they'd stepped inside another dimension, perhaps a parallel world, once they started on the path at Avalon; these places didn't exist in Great Britain, that was certain. In any case, it had taken them eight days to reach the bloody cave. A good thing he'd thought to bring his portable coffin.

Yes, a bloody coffin. They couldn't have designed a plain, rectangular box for vampires to rest in when they were outside, could they? How fucking amusing.

Oh well. At least it was comfortable. Not that it made much difference to him.

"I will," Tony said as he took a step forward. He'd volunteered to receive the foretelling, oddly enough. Well, Walden was glad he had. He wouldn't have wanted to know his own future, or Evey's.

The Beast cleared its throat. It wasn't at all what Walden had expected. When Scamander had published the first acceptable sketch of the Beast, decades ago, it had looked like an albino hedgehog; in Merlin's writings on the subject, it had been a mighty stag. Walden had therefore assumed that it took on a different form every time it died and was reborn, but Evey said she saw a kiwi bird, and Tony claimed it looked like an aardvark. Walden saw a mallard. The only thing they could agree on was that the creature was a pure, brilliant white.

"Bleak will be the years ahead, dead one," the duck declared solemnly. It had a crisp Londoner accent, which would have been comical if they weren't so damned tired.

"You will be loved by many," it went on, "but you will never return the feeling, not until your one true love is made available to you, centuries from now. In the meantime, you shall be miserable, and lonely no matter the company you keep. Your many accomplishments will never fulfil the void that's inside you. You will oft long for death, and it shall ever remain out of your reach. Oh, quite dreadful shall be the years to come, Ancient one."

"Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine," Tony said with a twisted smile.

When the Beast didn't reply, Evey gave it another try. "I wish–"

"Now," the Questing Beast interrupted her, "I'm afraid you must be punished for bringing four, instead of three."

"But she's a dog!" Tony exclaimed, indicating Nana. "The manual says we must bring three _people_ , it makes no mention of pets!"

"Consider carefully," the creature went on, Tony's complains unheeded, "for if you do not wish for all to live, I will smite one of my own choosing, and then whoever remains may wish to their heart's content."

"You want us to use our wish to save ourselves?" Evey said indignantly. "That's not fair!"

"Damn right it's not," Tony snapped. "Do you have any idea what we went through to get here, you ugly bastard? And now you're telling us we came all the way for nothing!"

They continued to argue for a few minutes, to the Beast's clear disinterest. It made no reply, and was beginning to look bored.

"You may squabble for as long as you see fit, but it will have no impact on my judgement," it said eventually.

"Piss off!" Evey screamed in sheer frustration.

"V, just do it," Walden said tiredly. "Wish for us to live. It's pointless arguing with it."

She did, though with bad grace.

"As you wish," the duck replied with a slight bow of its feathered head. "Now one of the remaining two must kill me," it went on conversationally.

Walden unstrapped his weapon. The manual claimed that the Beast could not be killed with magic, so they'd had to improvise. He wasn't fond of guns, so he had brought his bow instead. Swiftly he nocked the arrow and let it fly toward its target. It found the Beast's neck, and with much gurgling and gasping, the Questing Beast died.

"We'll meet again, you twat," Tony promised before the Beast drew its last breath and vanished.


	63. That's what I'm Tolkien about

"Wait, wait, I think I got something," Tony called out to him. He was pointing at some large, circular graffiti on the dirty wall. "Isn't that Elvish? I mean, you're the expert."

They were in southern Belgium, in a dark, dingy alley on the outskirts of a gloomy town with a marked industrial past. They'd had to Apparate to seven different locations before getting here, and they'd almost ended up in the wrong town, its namesake in the United States. Evey had been surprised to learn of the portal's location; she'd expected a more… magical location, like the Black Forest, or near an ancient monument, perhaps. In fact, many of the original portals had been located in proximity of universities and various places of learning. This one might have been accidentally displaced at the same time that it was damaged.

Walden approached his wand to try to distinguish the markings. "Aye, it is. Well-spotted." He tilted his head sideways to read. "It roughly translates as ' _The living cannot pass. Beware and enter at your own risk_.'"

"See, they don't really hate us. They took the time to warn us that the portal couldn't be used by the living."

"Most likely they just got tired of clearing up the dead bodies that piled up on the other side," Walden muttered glumly.

He wasn't looking forward to this little trip to Middle-earth. Oh, he would have been delighted, had the circumstances been different, but to go now, without Evey… And besides, he was convinced that this endeavour would prove just as futile as seeking the Questing Beast had been. Well, that had been a complete disaster, in truth.

But he couldn't let Tony go alone. Who knew what awaited them beyond the portal? Moreover, magic was said to be… different, in Middle-earth. Their wands would be useless, and they would have to travel on foot. Ancient or not, his brother was hardly suited to survive in the wilderness alone without magic.

"So the portal is here somewhere?" Tony asked, looking around.

"The writing encircles it, I think. It's just not been activated yet." He put his flesh hand against the wall but felt nothing.

"And how do we activate it?"

"Not a clue. The Dwarves didn't mention that." With luck, their adventure would end before it could begin, and he would be back home with Evey before he knew it.

But Tony was fingering his goatee thoughtfully. Apparently, he had changed his mind about beards. Probably since Evey had told him she rather liked it. "It can't be magic, since ours is different than theirs. A password, perhaps? Like when Gandalf opens the gate that leads into Moria? What was it, _Mellon_ or something?"

"Tony, you do realise that most of what happens in the book did not _actually_ happen, don't you? If Tolkien had kept his account to what truly went down after the Wizard discovered the One Ring in the Shire, it would have made a short novella at best."

"To be fair ' _He entrusted the Ring to Frodo, and bid the King of the Eagles to carry the Hobbit to Mount Doom_ ' wouldn't have been much of a story," his brother said with a grin. "But everything he wrote had at least some element of truth to it, so why not this part?" he went on, indicating the wall. "Just say the word."

"You already said it, and nothing happened," Walden pointed out.

"My pronunciation must be terrible."

Walden sighed. " _Mellon_." As he had expected, nothing continued to happen. "Tony, this is ridiculous. We could spend years trying to figure the right word – or words – and we don't even know if that's how the portal gets activated."

"Aw, don't be so defeatist. Let me think, alright?" He closed his eyes for a moment. "It warns us that the living cannot pass. What if we tell it we're dead?"

Walden eyed him dubiously, but he said the words in Elvish. There was a blinding flash of light, and the space delimitated by the Elves' warning turned into a bright, shimmering hole.

"You have got to be joking," Walden murmured in astonishment.

Tony was laughing delightedly. "I can just imagine you replaying the scene where Gandalf uses every single word he knows in every possible language, when the word is actually right under his nose. You Ravenclaws, you think too much," he added smugly. "Well, that's dealt with. Who goes first?"

"I do," Walden said determinedly. He grabbed the edge of the portal and stepped over it.

* * *

Tony emerged from the river sputtering water. His clothes were drenched. _Off to a great start_ , he thought derisively. Good thing he couldn't feel the cold anymore.

Walden had already taken his shirt off and was wringing it vigorously.

"When you said the portal led to the Bruinen, I didn't think it led _inside_ it," Tony muttered. He looked around. "Is this the right Ford? How do we even know?" They had a map, of course, but a river was a river.

"We'll find out soon enough," Walden said. "And the portal was damaged. I doubt it led in the river, originally." He pointed to his right. "We'll have to stop for the day, but if we're in the right place, we'll come upon Rivendell tomorrow night."

They walked for three hours that night, without meeting anyone, until Walden had to lock himself in his… coffin. Thankfully, Tony had thought to bring some occupation for the day. He worked on his new project for a while, then he went for a walk to stretch his legs. That was when he encountered his first Elf.

He looked just like Tony had imagined an Elf would look, tall and slender, with glorious long hair the colour of honey. The Elf eyed him with unconcealed suspicion and said something Tony couldn't make out. Elvish, most likely, but the only word Tony knew was the one he had used the previous night. Walden was mainly here to serve as his translator.

"Greetings," Tony said with his best smile. "My name is Antonin, and I come from Earth." He gestured in the general direction of the portal. He felt like an alien visiting a new planet. _I come in peace_ , he thought wryly. "Do you speak English?"

The Elf shook his head slowly. Bad luck. Maybe they should have packed the vial of Felix Felicis after all.

He opened his mouth to try and communicate regardless of the language barrier, but the Elf had just unsheathed a sharp-looking knife from his belt. Tony hastily raised his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening posture.

"Look, mate, I come in peace, alright?" Maybe it wasn't such a stupid thing to say after all. "I'm unarmed. Really, there's no need for that," he added, pointing at the dagger.

The Elf cried out in his own tongue, and suddenly Tony was surrounded by a dozen Elves with danger in their eyes. How had he not heard them skulking around? This was bad. They couldn't harm him, but still, he would rather reach Rivendell without having to tear through its residents. And he couldn't just leave Walden unguarded. What if someone opened his coffin?

"Please, listen to me. I mean, just try to puzzle out what I'm saying."

Thankfully, he was saved from having to mime his words when another Elf stepped forward. "What do you want, Earthling? How did you get here?"

"Through the portal. Look, we don't want any trouble, we just–"

"We?" the Elf repeated with an arched eyebrow.

"My brother and myself. He's… asleep. We–"

"The portal has not been activated in over a year, and it has been damaged. We did not think it was still functional."

He'd never imagined Elves could be so rude. Was he going to let him talk, or what?

Wait. A year? That meant other people had come through not so long ago. Why were they so hostile now?

"Apparently, the portal still works," Tony stated the obvious. "I assure you, we're not here to cause trouble. We would like to discuss with El… that is, with the Lord of Rivendell." Tolkien had changed most of the names, and Tony had no idea what his proper name was. In the days before Tolkien's betrayal – so the Elves named it – wizards and witches from Earth were allowed to visit, to learn from the various inhabitants of Middle-earth, its rich history and languages and the magic that was at work here. Some locations had become almost 'touristic', such as the Mines of Moria, Orthanc, Dale or Minas Tirith. The latter's library especially was quite the attraction. Dumbledore himself had spent some time there, as had Gellert Grindelwald, long before he became the nasty piece of shit he was known to be.

In exchange, Elves and Dwarves and Men were welcome to visit Earth and learn from the wizards' lore (or the Muggles'), puny as it may seem in comparison to their own. A few Hobbits were also said to have crossed the barrier that separated the two worlds.

But those days were long gone.

The Elf considered for a minute. "Very well. Rouse your brother, and you shall be escorted to the city."

"Ah… yeah, I can't do that. He can't be out in daylight." The Elf frowned, and Tony hastened to clarify. "He's not an Orc or anything like that. He's a vampire. They're not very fond of sunlight."

"And what manner of creature may you be?"

That wasn't very polite. He was beginning to seriously dislike the Elf, who had not even introduced himself. "I'm also a vampire," he admitted. "Just not the sort that fears the sun."

The Elf considered it for a minute. "Yes, we have encountered your kind before." He signalled to his companions. "Then we shall transport your brother and wait for him to come to his senses in Imladris. You shall accompany us." That didn't sound like a suggestion.

Tony indicated the place where Walden had settled for the day, and the Elves carried the coffin, all the way to Rivendell – or Imladris, if they wished to call it that. It was only a few miles now, but Tony couldn't help but think it would have been more practical to wait for the night. The Elves set a good pace, and they reached the entrance to the city just before dark.

* * *

Evey paced restlessly across the room, fidgeting her wedding ring anxiously. They'd promised they wouldn't be gone more than three days, and already four days had gone by since they Disapparated from the manor. Tony had assured her there would be no trouble; though the Elves were seriously pissed off about that whole Tolkien business, they had no reason to shoot arrows at them on sight. They were a rather peaceful folk, after all.

Nana had picked up her mood and was whining softly. Evey sat down on the floor next to her and hugged her.

"It will be alright," she whispered, more to herself than to Nana. "They will come back soon. Tomorrow at the latest. It will be alright," she repeated.

* * *

"Tony," he said, "we can't stay here forever, mate. It's been four days already. Evey will be worried sick, you know she will." He glared in the direction of the Council Chamber. "I understand that it takes time, but we can't wait around for them to make up their minds and send messengers across the land. Let's get back home, and they can let us know once they've decided."

The Elves had been rather cold toward them, but they were still quite hospitable. They had been lucky: some Elves were currently visiting from Mirkwood and Lórien, as well as Dwarves, Men and Hobbits, and the Lord of Imladris had allowed the two of them to speak to his gathered guests. None of them had introduced themselves; apparently, they feared that Tony and Walden would add insult to injury and reveal their proper names to the world as soon as they got back to Earth.

The city, Rivendell or Imladris, as the Elves preferred to call it, was exactly as described in the books. Perhaps Tolkien had not altered as much as they'd assumed, apart from the story of the destruction of the One Ring itself.

"How about you go on ahead and I'll join you as soon as they've reached a decision?" Tony offered. He really liked it here – and no wonder – despite the general mistrust and aloofness of their host and of his guests.

"Tony, I can't go alone. If I leave now, it will be day before I reach the portal, and if someone decides to open the coffin while I sleep…" He trailed off. There was no need to explain what would happen then. "Look, they can create a portal whenever and wherever they want. We don't need to stay here; they'll know how to contact us." Tony appeared as stubborn as before despite Walden's perfectly sensible arguments. "Nothing's preventing us from visiting again later," he went on more quietly. "They didn't murder us on the spot, and they didn't send us right back to Earth, either. Perhaps they'll be more welcoming if we come for a reason other than begging for assistance against an evil overlord. Merlin knows they've had their fair share of dealing with those. Maybe they'll even open a portal that Evey can safely cross," he added hopefully.

Tony sighed. "Alright, fine," he said reluctantly. "You win. But we _will_ come back. I will, in any case," he vowed.


	64. The girl who waited

Tony stepped inside the house and found Evey sitting in the kitchen. She had a steaming mug in front of her and was looking at the window, her gaze apparently far away. She didn't notice him until he was a few feet away from her.

She started. "Tony?" she whispered. She stood up almost hesitantly and walked up to him. She stared at him for a moment before throwing herself in his arms. She promptly began to cry.

"Hey," he said, awkwardly patting her back. "What happened?" ' _Who died?_ ' was what he meant, but it sounded a bit crude, admittedly. Merlin, they'd only been gone a few days!

Evey didn't reply. She was sobbing hard against his chest. Damn. Surely Harry couldn't be dead?

"V, just tell me what it is, will you?" he asked again. "Walden is fine, you know. I had to leave him in Belgium, because the sun was up when we got back, for some reason, but he's fine," he said. "He'll be safe until nightfall. I made sure of that."

At length she released him. Turning away from him, she got a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose with a resounding noise. Then she took a deep breath and rounded on him once more, eyes blazing. What had he done now?

"Does your watch still work?" she asked him angrily.

Frowning, he glanced at his watch. It didn't, actually, so he shook his head. "We were delayed, alright? But come on, V, it's only been five days. It's not the end of the–"

"Five _days_?" she repeated incredulously. "It's been five fucking _months_ , you twat! We're in _March_!"

Now he was lost. "I don't… That's not…" No one had ever mentioned a time lapse between Earth and Middle-earth. It made no sense. Someone would have noticed if time passed differently on the other side of the portals. Hell, Tolkien had spent half his life in there!

But wait a second. The Elves said that no one had used the portal in over a year. If five days there meant five months here…

"We were the first to come through since they closed the portals, forty-five years ago," he murmured in amazement. "No wonder they were still so hostile toward visitors. To them, it's only been a few months since Tolkien published his books…" He blinked, suddenly aware that Evey was glaring at him. "Shit. I'm so sorry, V. I swear, I had no idea." Clearly, the Elves were not aware of the fact, either. Then he realised that this errand had been vain: if it took the inhabitants of Middle-earth even a few days to gather help, they would come out of the portal months later, at best, when – hopefully – help wouldn't be needed anymore. Oh, hell. Walden was going to kill him.

If Evey didn't kill him first.

Before she could speak, however, someone hurtled down the stairs. Blackbeard emerged a moment later.

"Oi, look who's here!" he cried out cheerfully. "See, lass, I told you they'd come back," he said matter-of-factly. Evey turned her smouldering eyes toward him. "I also predicted you'd be furious when they did," he went on with a grin.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked him with a frown.

"He's here because _you_ were not," Evey hissed. "Everyone is busy fighting a war, and here I am, with no one to talk to, convinced you're both dead or forever trapped in Middle-earth. If Ted hadn't called when he did, I honestly don't know what would have happened."

She was on the verge of tears again, so he hugged her tightly. Thankfully, she didn't push him away. "I had no idea," he said once more. "I'm sorry, duckling. I'm the one who insisted we remained another day." His best guess was that de-activating the portals had caused a time shift, somehow. Or perhaps it was due to the faulty one. Well, he was not about to investigate it now, although they would need to send a message to the other side to let them know.

"I doubt a day would have made much difference, all things considered," she muttered grumpily.

"Thank you for staying with her," Tony told Blackbeard. The Wolf would not have been his first choice to keep an eye on his sister-in-law, but he didn't really have a say in the matter, did he?

The former pirate made a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it. We were bored to death in Florida. I was glad for an excuse to come back here, to tell you the truth."

"So… um… anything interesting happen while we were gone?" Tony asked. A lot could have happened in five months.

Evey let go of him and straightened her hair with a huff of annoyance. It was as unruly as ever, he noted with a smile. "We've had no news from Harry and the others in a while, but we know they managed to retrieve at least one of the Horcruxes, the locket Dumbledore was looking for on the night he died. As for the rest of us… We're all hiding and surviving, just as before, and trying to resist as best we can. Oh, and Tonks is about to give birth," she added with a small smile.

Well, those were good news. He'd expected to hear that half of the Order was dead, and Harry missing, or worse. Good news indeed.

"Now," Evey said in a business-like fashion, "how about you take me to Belgium so I can wait for my husband to wake up and give him a proper scolding?"

* * *

In truth, even Ted and Silver's presence had barely kept her sane. After a week, she'd begun to be seriously worried; after a month, she had been ready to jump through the portal to Middle-earth even if it killed her. But Walden must have foreseen she would consider that, if something happened: he hadn't revealed the portal's exact location. She had only a city name to go by, and she had no idea how to find and employ the underground Apparition network besides.

She had been angry at them for leaving her. She had been angry at herself for letting them go. And she'd been angry at everyone who attempted to comfort her.

Ted had called her in early January to wish her a happy new year and he had jumped on the occasion of her being miserable to hop on the first charter back to Scotland. Silver had remained here for a while as well, but eventually grew restless. He'd decided to take a trip to Morocco alone and they hadn't heard from him since, but Ted assured her they often took breaks. It was nothing to worry about and it had nothing to do with her or the current situation. Ted was content to spend most of his days with Walden's pets and watch TV the rest of the time – ' _best goddamn invention of the century_ ', he claimed.

The Wolf had explained to her that Malkoran had finally involved himself in the Greyback situation, but to the best of his knowledge the 'cub' was still nowhere to be found. They'd attended a few meetings gathering the Ancients and some of the Wolves – the Bloodmother was determined to find the person responsible for her progeny's death and she would not rest until she did. Apparently, she and her rival had agreed on a temporary truce, although as far as Evey could see Malkoran didn't consider Ellessin – as was the Mother's true name – as an adversary, but rather as… well, as his former lover, which she was.

Malkoran had been surprised to hear about Evey, and they'd spoken much in the past few weeks. She was the one who'd taught him how to use a phone, in fact. Quite a feat; he wasn't keen on using any sort of technology. He seemed… stuck in his own time, somehow, as if the last centuries – or millennia – hadn't occurred at all. He'd first looked at the phone as a caveman must have gaped, awed, at the fire he'd unwittingly started. He'd had quite a laugh when she pointed that out. That had been the only time she'd seen him laugh, and the Bloodmother had stared suspiciously at him when he did.

Before Ted called her, Evey had been in contact with Gorgo and Imhotep, and Alice. The three of them had been worried about Antonin and Walden. They had already lost Jeanne; they couldn't lose another Ancient. They had also offered to stay at the manor, to keep her company, but at the time Evey had been glad to be alone. At least there was no one to see her cry, and she didn't have to dress properly or even shower if she didn't feel like it. Of course, Ted hadn't left her any choice in the matter.

A good thing he hadn't. She'd already lost quite a bit of weight by the time the Wolves moved in, despite Caraid's constant nagging that she should eat, and she spent most of her time muttering to herself or talking to Nana, as if she would reply.

She knew no one was to blame – except perhaps Tolkien, for angering the Elves in the first place, but the man was dead 25 years – but she was still furious for the time she'd spent wondering if she was doomed to lose everyone she had ever loved or cared about, and what she had done to deserve that. Of course, it had brought back memories of her family's murder, and the guilt that always accompanied them.

Walden had looked so distraught when he realised what had happened that she hadn't had the heart to comment on it. He'd been angry with Tony, as the latter had predicted, although it really wasn't his fault, but it hadn't lasted.

There was nothing else to do now but pick up where they'd left off.


	65. Life is a curse and death is the cure

_Five weeks ago…_

She wasn't supposed to be here. No matter what some of the others said, she wasn't really part of the 'family'. But Gorgo had been worried about her and had dragged her here, probably so she could keep an eye on her. Clearly, she didn't think Ted was a proper caretaker. The Ancients were waiting for the Bloodmother to arrive before the meeting could begin. Evey didn't even know what the meeting was about.

"Did you find anything interesting regarding my ancestry?" she asked the older woman on a whim. Gorgo had offered to look into it months ago, to see if her blood lineage could somehow explain her… hybridisation.

"I'm afraid not," Gorgo replied. "I went back to the thirteenth century, but there's nothing of interest. I found no wizard or witch among your ancestors, and no involvement of any sort with magical beings. Except for the fact that one of your forefathers was a pirate under Blackbeard's command, but that was before he was transformed, I believe."

Evey laughed. "No way!" That was quite a coincidence. "I knew piracy was in my blood. Ted and I should get a ship, recruit some likely lads and sail the Seven Seas." At least it would take her mind off less pleasant matters.

"I don't imagine people really do that anymore," Imhotep said. "Besides, it would be a waste of your skills, my dear."

"What skills? The ability to lose everyone I love?" she countered sourly.

Gorgo and Imhotep exchanged a meaningful glance. "I meant rather…"

Evey cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Never mind. I love watching the sea from afar, but sailing is a different matter entirely. Besides, whales scare me."

Imhotep frowned. "Whales?"

Evey shrugged. " _Pinocchio_ traumatised me, as a kid. Hated that movie."

They both looked confused. They may not be witches or wizards, but the Ancients had little knowledge of Muggle culture – contemporary knowledge, in any case.

"Never mind," she repeated.

They were all silent for a while, but everyone turned to look as someone was ushered in by the butler. The man was tall and slender, and… well, beautiful. He had four laceration marks on his left cheek. Evey had never seen the man before. Turning to Gorgo, she asked who the newcomer was.

The Spartan queen was eyeing him suspiciously. "That would be Malkoran, I believe." Imhotep nodded in confirmation. "What he's doing here, however, I cannot begin to–"

The Bloodmother chose that moment to appear. She glowered at Malkoran as soon as she spotted him. The Wolf took a step in her direction, but the Ripper got between them.

Malkoran opened his mouth to speak, but the Mother didn't allow him a chance to do so. "We will speak later," she said crisply. "Wait here while I talk to my children." She looked at Evey from across the room. "You stay here, too, but will you please cast a spell to prevent any... eavesdropping?" she added with a pointed look to Malkoran. Evey complied without a protest. It would be pointless to argue with her.

Gorgo patted Evey on the shoulder before joining the others in the meeting room. Feeling suddenly very lonely, Evey glanced at the Wolf, wondering if she should approach him. Eventually, her curiosity won over her timidity and she walked toward him. He hadn't moved since the Mother had dismissed him and was standing rigidly near the door.

"So… you're the Alpha Wolf, huh?"

He didn't look at her. His green eyes were fixed on the door. "I am Malkoran," he replied simply. He didn't ask her who she was, so she assumed he already knew.

"You cheated on her, didn't you?" Evey went on without thinking. What the hell was wrong with her? She felt herself blush.

This time the Wolf spared her a brief, scowling glance before returning his attention to the door. "Ellessin led me to believe she had made no mention of me to anyone."

Ellessin? Was that the Mother's true name? "She didn't," Evey admitted. She noted that he hadn't denied it, however. "It's just rather obvious." What with him looking like a forlorn puppy and bearing scratch marks and the Mother glaring at him as if he was a particularly repulsive insect.

He sighed. "Is the answer to her taking me back as obvious?" he asked softly.

Evey didn't reply. Was that the reason of his presence? He wanted her back, _now_? After everything that had happened with Greyback? _Good luck with that_ , she thought derisively.

"I suppose taking Greyback alive so she can kill him as she sees fit will help," he went on grimly.

"Did she say that?" Evey asked. "That she wanted to kill him?" Damn. Tony had been so sure that he had managed to convince the Mother to take the Wolf alive.

"She said she wanted him alive, but I assumed it was so she could kill him herself."

"Well, I hope not. It would kill me," Evey muttered.

Now he turned toward her. "Why? Do you care for him?"

Was he out of his bloody mind? "I most certainly do not!" she snarled. "She didn't tell you about me, did she?" That was the only explanation. Malkoran shook his head. "Greyback bit me. He and I are… linked. If she hurts him… it will hurt me."

Malkoran didn't seem troubled by the fact that she'd been bitten and had survived. "But if you are one of... mine... why does Elle care? Why are you here?"

She told him the whole story. The Mother probably had her reasons not to have explained it to him before, but if she didn't want him to know, she shouldn't have left Evey alone with him.

"He murdered your family," the Wolf repeated when she was done. "And he said he attacked you because of your scent?" Evey nodded. "Your scent is quite fascinating, I have to admit, but not a cause to bite you, certainly." Well, Greyback wasn't right in the head, was he? And, admittedly, he claimed that her scent had changed after he bit her.

"This connection you have with Damian..." Malkoran began to say.

"Who?" she asked with a frown.

"Greyback."

"That's his name? Damian?" That didn't sound very Jewish. Or German, or Polish, or whatever.

"So Hannibal claims. Damian Wilk, anglicised to Wolfe after he moved to England in the seventies."

He had to be joking. "His real, actual surname means _wolf_ in Polish?" Scabior had taught her a few words while she was being held at Asgard.

"It's a rather common name," Malkoran pointed out.

Greyback wouldn't see it like that. "No wonder he's developed a god complex," she murmured. "He must think it was predestined." She shook her head. "I take it you've never met him?"

"I'm afraid I have not been very present lately."

"Where have you been?"

"I was in a Buddhist monastery, until Elle decided it was time for me to return to the world."

Not the answer she'd expected, but after all, why not? "How long have you lived there?"

"Since the war ended."

"Wow, that was 50 years ago!" Evey exclaimed. "No wonder you haven't been keeping up with recent events."

"No, I meant the First War," he corrected her quietly. "My apologies, I forgot there had been another one in the meantime. We were lucky enough to be spared from that one, isolated as we were."

He _forgot_ about World War II? Damn. He sounded almost like her great-granddad, who had often been confused about dates and events as he grew older and slightly senile. Then again, Malkoran must have seen enough wars to start mixing them up. "Didn't the monks wonder why you didn't age though?"

"They never mentioned it," he said with a shrug.

Those Buddhist monks seemed like very chill blokes. Maybe she should consider retreating to a monastery if Tony and Walden never returned from Middle-earth.

But they would come back. Of course they would. Tony, at least, couldn't be killed, so it was only a matter of time until he figured out a way to come back to Earth, if they were trapped.

She just wished he would hurry about it.

* * *

"I believe I told you to come here only if you had captured Greyback," Elle said in a voice cold enough to freeze over the whole Atlantic Ocean, "yet I do not see him," she went on with a pointed look around the room.

The other Ancients had been dismissed an hour ago and Elle had taken her time before summoning him to her. Her meeting with her 'children' had lasted over two hours; Mal had spent all that time talking with Evangeline. She was quite something. No wonder Ellessin hadn't told him about the girl. She must be afraid he would try to claim her for himself, since she had been bitten by Greyback before being bitten by the Wizard. That was the latest recruit to join the ranks of the Ancients, apparently. Antonin Dolohov, the first person with magical abilities to be turned into an Ancient. Evangeline said he was a former Death Eater, but she had had to explain what that meant. Despite Hannibal's regular missives – and requests that Mal intervened in several dreary affairs – he had not bothered to keep up with the world, magical or not. He had been quite content to live apart from it.

The World War – the first one – had been the last straw for him. It had been proof that humanity was lost. Finding out about the Second World War had only comforted him in this belief. If some shreds of humanity remained anywhere in the world, he had hoped to find them in a monastery. He held no religious belief, obviously. He had opted for the Buddhist temple simply because of its remoteness.

He had not felt time pass there. It had been a surprise to realise they were approaching the year 2000, and not a pleasant surprise. He had been alive for over five millennia, the date told him. That was too much for anyone. That Voldemort person didn't know what he was wishing for. Immortality was a plague, an insidious disease that slowly robbed you of your will to live. He yearned for death, but he knew that Elle would never give him the satisfaction of killing him. And she would never take him back, no matter what he did. He was deluding himself.

"Elle, he is a wizard. I am not. He has ways to conceal himself, to suppress even his scent, according to Evangeline."

Elle's eyes narrowed at that. "How much did the blasted girl tell you, exactly?"

"She told me everything, as far as I know." He didn't think the girl would get in trouble for that. Elle obviously cared about her, otherwise she wouldn't be here.

"Foolish child," Ellessin muttered.

"I asked her if her connection to Damian would allow her to find him, somehow, but–"

"You idiot! Don't you think I've considered that already? Coming to you was a last resort solution. Or an idea, at least, since it didn't solve anything," she said harshly. "Why are you here, Mal? To let me know you have failed miserably? A message would have sufficed."

She had never been one to mince her words. "I came personally out of courtesy, but also to propose that we unite to hunt him down together. A wizard especially would be of great assistance. _The_ Wizard, perhaps?"

"Well, it seems she did not tell you _everything_ ," Elle said with a twisted smile. "The Wizard is unavailable at the moment."

"What about Evangeline herself? She is a witch, and she has as much cause as anyone to want him found and brought to justice for his actions." He still couldn't believe what the cub had done to the girl's family. He had known of Greyback's involvement in suspicious affairs, but this… He should have kept an eye on things, they were all correct about that. It was his fault. He had a responsibility toward the girl, to find her kin's murderer.

"Honestly, how dense have you become? It is too dangerous, Mal. If she is captured again, we will never find her."

Indeed. Greyback had been subject to a condition in the past: that he must let his elders know exactly where he was and how to reach him. All the Wolves had known about Asgard, but the place was now deserted, his pack nowhere to be found. Greyback had gone rogue, just like his maker before him.

"You're right, of course," he admitted with a slight bow of his head. "I'm out of ideas, Elle. I'm sorry. I tried my best, I assure you." With a bit of luck, she may yet kill him out of sheer spite, or in a fit of rage.

He'd never been particularly lucky, however.

"I do not give you permission to abandon your mission. Keep looking. You may request assistance from my children, if you believe that will help. They have special talents, as you know. But you will keep away from Evey. Is that clear?" she demanded imperiously.

"Crystal," he replied. She really cared about the girl, odd as it may seem. To be fair, it was easy to become attached to her. Already she'd made him promise to keep her informed if he heard anything about Greyback – he hadn't had the heart to tell her it was a vain errand – and he'd hastened to comply.

Idly, he wondered if Evangeline was the one who was supposed to bring them together, Elle and him, according to the prophecy he had received from the Seer, many lifetimes ago.

* * *

 _Aeons ago..._

After the debacle he had caused and Ellessin's departure, Malkoran had wandered aimlessly for a long time and eventually found himself at the Seer's hut once more.

He half-expected her to have died a long time ago, but he wondered if perhaps their sacrifice, committed at her suggestion, had earned her a few extra years. Demon-worshipper indeed. Her apparence had not altered in the interval since their first encounter, although her great-granddaughter was now an old woman.

"And here he comes again, Malkoran the Wanderer," the Seer declared slyly when he approached her bed.

"I would kill you," Mal murmured, "but I fear you would feel more at home in the place you are destined to reach."

"Oh, no such place awaits me, Cursed One. The gods and I have an... arrangement. I paid the price. Dearly. The first born, the second... and all the ones who came after. She" - the crone indicated her younger kin - "is but a husk. Her soul was traded before she took her first breath."

"Was it worth the price?" Malkoran asked her softly.

"Oh no, not quite. Immortality is a curse, as you will soon come to realise. But there is no coming back from this, as you well know. We made our bed, as they say."

He wasn't certain what had brought him here. He had no words for her. As he turned to depart, however, the hag called after him.

"One shall come to bring you together again, the Wolf and the Bloodreaper. She will unite you." She smiled unpleasantly. "Despair not, Malkoran Fenrirson, for brighter days are ahead."

"How far ahead?" he demanded. "Who will come?"

"A young girl, from a land that has yet to be named, in an age yet to come."

"An age yet to come? When?" he repeated forcefully. "Enough with the riddles, beldam!"

The Seer snorted contemptuously. "You will lead a wretched, pathetic existence, Cursed One, until this one releases you and reunites you with the woman who holds your heart. But many a spring shall pass until that day, more than even I can foresee."

Her malicious cackle followed him out, an echo reminiscent of a bygone age.


	66. There's a bad moon on the rise

They were at Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's house. Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived the day before, and they were not alone: with them came Luna Lovegood, the renowned wandmaker Garrick Ollivander and a grumpy goblin named Griphook.

It was quite a story.

Unaware of the Taboo, one of them had uttered the Dark Lord's name aloud and triggered the curse. A band of Snatchers had caught them moments later – Snatchers led by Greyback. While everyone had been looking for him abroad, the bloody man had been right here in England. Furthermore, Ron claimed that the Wolf had called one of his men Scabior, which likely meant that he'd finally forced his pack to take part in the war.

The three of them had been taken to Malfoy manor straight away, so that a proper Death Eater could decide what was to be done with them. Ensued questioning, torture and a rather brief captivity. They had been rescued by a house elf, Dobby, whom Harry apparently knew very well. Sadly, the elf had been fatally wounded just before he left the manor for the last time; another victim to lay at Bellatrix Lestrange's feet. Harry had buried the elf outside the cottage.

It seemed that Peter Pettigrew had met his end as well – for real, this time, although no one would cry over him, Evey was sure.

In consequence to all of this, Ron having been spotted by the Death Eaters meant that the Burrow was no longer safe, and that his family were now considered traitors. They had settled at Aunt Muriel's place for the moment, and Mr Weasley was Secret Keeper of the house.

The good news was that the trio had managed to destroy the locket, one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and knew where to find the next one: in Bellatrix's safe at Gringotts. They were going to plan a break-in, somehow, if they could persuade Griphook to assist them.

This should be fun.

* * *

A couple of days later, Remus announced happily that Tonks had given birth to a baby boy. Thankfully, Edward – or Teddy, as his father called him – hadn't inherited Remus's lycanthropy. He had, however, already changed his hair colour a few times. Evey, Walden and Tony joined the others at Shell Cottage to celebrate, and that was when Remus asked them if they could possibly stay with Tonks on the 12th, because he was loath to leave her on her own during his monthly transformation, so soon after their son's birth.

Which was how they found themselves surrounding Tonks and her wailing offspring on the night of the full moon. The new mother was not happy to have them here, they could tell. Tony had tried to tell her to get some rest, insisting that they would look after Teddy, but it was pointless. Tonks clearly didn't trust them with her son. He couldn't really blame her for that, but she looked exhausted.

"For Merlin's sake, Tonks, just go to bed," he said for the umpteenth time. "He's perfectly safe with us, I promise."

She hesitated again, but she seemed to be faltering. She presented the screaming baby to Evey. "Here, just hold him while I go to the loo, will you?"

Evey took him gingerly. She'd told them on the way here that she'd never even held a baby before. Well, Tonks probably felt more comfortable leaving Teddy with another woman, rather than with a vampire. And former Death Eater. He would always wear that tag, wouldn't he?

The moment the boy settled in Evey's arms, he fell silent. Tonks, who had started to turn toward the bathroom, swivelled around, quick as lightning. "What did you do?" she demanded crisply, hands on her hips.

Evey was staring down at Teddy, mesmerised. "I… I have no idea. I mean, you just gave him to me. I didn't have time to do anything."

The baby smiled and made a happy gurgling sound, and his mother looked somewhat disgruntled. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands and sighed. It turned into a yawn. "Well, whatever it is, keep at it. I'll be right back."

As soon as she was out of sight, Evey turned to Tony. "Take it, will you?"

"Him," he corrected her. "It's a boy, you know? No need to be gender neutral any longer. And I can't. She gave him to _you_ ; that means she trusts you with him, not me. You don't want to mess with a new mother."

"I've never felt more awkward in my entire life," Evey muttered. "Why on earth did Remus ask _us_ to come? It doesn't make any sense. Why not Molly, or Harry, or anyone else, really? Hell, the goblin would be better at this than I am."

Walden roused from his sprawling position on the sofa. He had been leafing through the _Daily Prophet_. "Because if Greyback shows up, Remus knows you two are the only ones who stand a chance against him," he said quietly.

Evey turned her head stiffly in his direction, but only slightly. She seemed afraid to drop the baby if she made any sort of movement. "The only reason Greyback would have to come here is _me_ ," she pointed out.

Walden grinned at her. "The world does not revolve around you, love. Greyback holds a grudge against Remus's dad, Lyall, so it's fair to believe he might come back for Lyall's grandson, if he's heard about the birth somehow."

Evey snorted. "Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that, actually. Greyback is incredibly contemptuous of Remus, said it was a mistake to bite him, a waste of perfectly good saliva. He claims Remus was not _worthy_ of receiving this _gift_." She shook her head. "He takes turning people very seriously, you know. I think he was angry at himself for allowing that business with Lyall Lupin to cause him to bite his kid without proper consideration. He should have known Remus would be a terrible werewolf. He can always tell." She frowned down at the boy. "How did they know he wasn't a werewolf from the start, until tonight, I mean?"

"The fact that he was clearly a Metamorphmagus makes it almost impossible," Walden replied. "The odds that he would be both a werewolf and a Morpher are infinitesimal. But as for other kids born of a werewolf father, it's rarely a question. If the foetus is contaminated, the pregnancy will often result in either miscarriage or stillbirth. Sometimes the baby will be born deformed, too. All in all, werewolf babies – healthy ones – are quite uncommon. In any case, it's easy enough to detect, even in the early stages of pregnancy, if you have access to proper care." Remus and Tonks had had to avoid St Mungo, at the risk of being arrested. Madam Pomfrey had only come to their house twice, at great risk to herself.

"In the Middle Ages, before the Great Hunt," Tony added, "they used silver to check whether the baby was a werewolf or not."

"But… if the baby _was_ a werewolf, that would leave a permanent scar, wouldn't it? And it would hurt like hell, too," Evey said, horrified. Reflexively, and likely unconsciously, she hugged Teddy closer to her and began to rock him slowly, although he made no sign of throwing another crying tantrum. In fact, Tony noted, he might very well have fallen asleep.

"You're so adorably innocent," Tony said in a lower voice. "V, if the baby proved to be a werewolf, it was abandoned in the woods." Her eyes widened. "I see Professor Binns still doesn't mention that part in class."

Tonks was back. "I almost fell asleep on the bloody toilet," she grumbled. She smiled a second later, however, when she realised that her son was finally asleep. "Well, let's get you to bed, little one," she crooned.

"And mummy, too," Tony added softly.

* * *

"My boy. My precious boy," Narcissa murmured as she brushed a stray lock of hair away from Draco's face.

Lucius patted his wife gently on the back, but she moved away from him and closer to her son.

Draco looked dreadfully pale, and he was shivering despite being drenched in sweat. He had been unconscious for hours. The Healer from St Mungo said there was nothing to be done: if Draco made it through the first twelve hours, he would survive, but there was no way of knowing in advance. In the meantime, nothing could relieve the pain from the wound or quench the fever. And if he did make it, he would feel weak for weeks afterward. Until the next full moon, that was. Then he would have to survive _that_.

"Is this punishment for what happened last week?" she wondered in a whisper. "For losing the Potter boy? We had nothing to do with it!" she cried out suddenly, turning to face him. "It was Bella's fault! Why does he punish _us_?" She looked at Draco once more. "This has gone too far. I don't care what he does to me, or to you, but to my _son_ …" She trailed off. "I won't have it. No more. We must leave at once." She stood up, as if they would depart on the instant.

"Cissy, we can't just _leave_ ," Lucius pointed out. "He will find us. You know he will. What good did running and hiding do to Karkaroff?"

It wasn't Bellatrix's fault that they were being punished. The blame went to him, and him alone. He should never have taken up with the Dark Lord in the first place, but his father had been quite insistent, and he'd threatened to disown him… And without his wealth and family name, who was he? Of course, he could have ignored the summons, three years ago, when He had come back. But the problem remained: what else could he have done? There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. His deepest regret was that Narcissa and Draco had been involved at all.

He still couldn't fathom what had possessed Draco to barge in like that during a meeting with the Dark Lord, and demand – demand! – that he be assigned a task. It had all gone downhill from there.

Ironically enough, Abraxas would end up disowning them anyway, if Draco became a werewolf. He would never have a wolf as his heir, and he would cast Lucius out if he defended Draco. All that for nothing.

He had screwed up royally.

Narcissa had her fists on her narrow waist, eyes blazing with fury. "Your son was _attacked_ , savaged by that… abomination… and you will do _nothing_?"

Twenty years they'd been married, and it had been more or less forced upon them, but she was as beautiful as she had been when he first laid eyes on her. He didn't want to lose her. He would do anything for her – for them – but she had to see that there was nothing he _could_ do.

"My darling, I want to retaliate, believe me, I do, but what good will it do, if we end up dead – or worse?" The Dark Lord had more than once implied that He could always use more Inferi, or He could choose to send the cursed werewolf again, to finish the job. Lucius placed his hands on his wife's shoulders, firmly enough that she couldn't shake him off, this time. "Cissy, listen to me. I will get us out of this… mess… somehow, I promise. But we must wait for the right opportunity. We're trapped here, for now, there's no helping that, but our time will come. Soon," he added with more confidence than he felt.

"And if no opportunity presents itself?" she whispered, almost too low for him to hear. She looked defeated, exhausted, her rage and desire for revenge gone as swiftly as they had come. For once, she actually looked her age.

He didn't reply, but enfolded her in his arms instead, and for the first time in years, Narcissa cried, great heaving sobs that racked her slender body. She had never been very emotional, for a woman. The last time she'd wept was when Draco had caught a dire lung infection, when he was just a toddler. He had almost died. In fact, the situation was eerily similar: they had been told that they would have to wait a few hours, that their son would be alright if he made it through the night. It had been the worst night he could remember – until today.

There would be an opportunity. There had to be.


	67. No living man may hinder me

"There's something I don't quite understand," Evey said.

"Only one thing?" Tony asked teasingly.

Evey narrowed her eyes at him before turning to Walden. "Why do the goblins let known Death Eaters and escapees from Azkaban enter Gringotts? They have ways of catching thieves and intruders, so why don't they just capture them and hold them until the Aurors can get there?"

"Chiefly because they don't care," Walden told her nonchalantly. "They're clients, and that's all that matters. As long as they can prove their identities and that the vault indeed belongs to them, there's nothing more to it. Their job is to ensure that properties entrusted to their care are safe; catching outlaws is up to the Aurors. The goblins consider Gringotts to be outside any legal jurisdiction but their own, where only their rules apply. They've never had good relations with the authorities, anyway."

He still couldn't believe that the kids were counting on the help of one of those sly creatures to obtain the Horcrux they thought was hidden in Bellatrix's vault. He'd already warned them about it: goblins were known to be unreliable and devious. Even if the kids managed to get inside the vault and retrieve the Horcrux, their safe escape was far from guaranteed. The rumours of dragons were not only rumours, he suspected, and there were various traps and spells in place to keep intruders out – or in. This was a suicide mission, but Harry wouldn't relent, and he'd refused to allow Walden or Tony to accompany them. They would risk being recognised; while it wouldn't bother the goblins overmuch, some of them might be spies for Voldemort. Walden couldn't see why it mattered at this point, but Harry's decision was final.

While the rest of the Order seemed reluctant to allow Harry to carry out this insane plan, they agreed that there was not much choice. They had to get the Horcrux before Voldemort retrieved it himself.

Therefore the three teenagers had left in the early morning of 1st May, with Griphook the goblin. Finally, around three in the afternoon, Tony couldn't stand it any longer. He Apparated in Diagon Alley to take the measure of things and came back looking amazed.

They had done it. They really had broken into Gringotts, retrieved the object, whatever it was, and managed to escape – although that part was a bit foggy. There was a hole in the roof of the bank, and there were wild reports of dragons flying over London, but those were clearly exaggerated. Walden supposed they would have to wait for Harry to come back for the full story, but he never came, and neither did the other two.

Everyone was frantic, but it wasn't until late that night that they received messages claiming that Harry was at Hogwarts – and that there was a battle going on. As they Apparated in Hogsmeade, little did they know that this was it: the last stand against Voldemort.

But who would prevail?

* * *

"Tony, there's no other option," Evey insisted. "No one else can take him down." She gestured at the battlefield at large. "He's impervious to magic; they're defenceless against him. He's going to slaughter them all." Just as she said the words, Greyback leapt on a girl and crushed her to the ground, teeth bared. He was in human form, but that made little difference. "How many kids have to die because you refuse to do what's right, what you _know_ is right? And what if he gets to Harry, huh? What then?"

Was she seriously angry with him because he refused to _kill_ her? "Evey, there's no way you'll regenerate quickly enough if I get to the carotid. You'll bleed out."

"So will he," she pointed out. "But you're wrong, actually. I'll be fine, Tony, I swear I will be."

"Last time I bit you, I barely pierced the skin and it took at least twelve hours for it to heal completely. You will have _seconds_ if I tore your throat out." This was simple math; even she could understand that.

"That was before I became what I am now," she countered. "Don't you remember what happened last year, when Greyback and Jeanne fought?"

Tony flinched. He certainly hadn't forgotten, and he didn't like to be reminded of it.

"Greyback was wounded," Evey went on. "I remember feeling a sharp pain in my shoulder, and then it was gone. But Greyback - if what Blackbeard said is true, he couldn't have regenerated. No more than Jeanne did," she added gently. "But I did. Almost immediately."

He hadn't really thought about that, in truth. He'd had other things on his mind, at the time. This wasn't exactly the same thing, in any case.

Evey shook her head in frustration when he pointed that out. "Look, I appreciate a heroic sacrifice as much as the next person, but I prefer it when I'm not the sacrifice. I don't want to die, and I wouldn't make you do this if I wasn't certain, Tony. I would never want that on your conscience. Please?"

Tony glanced in Greyback's direction once more. Merlin, he was actually _eating_ the girl, he realised with what would have been nausea, if he'd had a functioning digestive system. They had to do _something_ , he agreed, but this… This was madness. It could go wrong on so many levels.

But Evey was right. Nothing else would stop the Wolf. "If you die…"

"I won't," she said decisively.

"If you die," he repeated, "tell Hades he better watch out, because I'll be coming to claim you."

Despite everything, Evey smiled. She knew he was going to do it.

Curse him for a fool, but he _was_ going to do it. Good thing Walden wasn't around; he was busy fighting off a Giant somewhere.

Tony hesitated. "This has got to be the world's craziest trust exercise."

"I don't need exercises to know I can trust you," she said softly.

He closed his eyes as he bent down toward her neck and let his fangs down.

* * *

She couldn't help but cry out in pain, but the sound died down quickly as her artery was severed. Already she felt weak with blood loss. Merlin, she hoped she was right about this. She really didn't want to die, but something had to be done. Lavender Brown was being torn apart at this very moment, and she hadn't been Greyback's first victim that night. The Wolf had gone mad; he wasn't simply killing his prey, he was _devouring_ them. Some sort of bloodlust had taken him.

She felt herself fall, on the edge of consciousness now, but Tony held her until she was in a half-sitting, half-sprawling position.

"Come on, you promised," he whispered.

She turned toward the place where she'd last seen Greyback, and more blood gushed out of her throat. It was a very unpleasant feeling.

The Wolf had both his hands around his neck as he tried to stem the flow of blood. He caught sight of her then, and their eyes met. His golden pupils held a dangerous light, but she saw real pain in them, and fear. He stumbled to his feet, abandoning Lavender's mutilated corpse without a second glance, and made his way toward them, his jowls drawn back, revealing pointed, blood-stained teeth. His t-shirt was drenched in blood, but Evey couldn't say how much of it was his. He was advancing rather quickly, for someone in his condition. Tony placed himself in front of her. _At least he won't have too much trouble finishing Greyback now_ , Evey thought as the darkness claimed her.

* * *

She started awake a few minutes later – at least she thought it was only minutes. Tony was still there, stroking her hair and murmuring to himself. He almost crushed her when he realised she'd come back to her senses.

"Is he dead?" she murmured when he finally released her. She still felt a bit dizzy, but her throat was whole once more. The blood she'd lost would be replaced quickly.

Tony nodded slowly. Evey sat up carefully, but already the spell of dizziness was retreating. She saw Greyback lying in the grass, only a few feet away from them, one hand outstretched toward her. She had been the last thing on his mind, she was sure. He had died knowing she was the one to cause his downfall. She found that very satisfying.

She rose to her feet with Tony's help and walked up to the body. She had to make sure he was dead. She wouldn't put it past him to pretend. She crouched beside him gingerly and took his pulse. Nothing. He was becoming cold already.

With a tremendous, relieved sigh, she stood up once more. It was done. Her family had been avenged, as well as everyone else who had been unlucky enough to cross the Wolf's path – not that it would do them any good. Revenge was definitely not all it was cut out to be, as she would come to realise.

Scabior entered her line of sight a moment later. He stood near Lavender's body, and took turn staring thoughtfully at the girl's corpse and at that of his former Alpha. Then he spotted Evey.

She wasn't certain what to expect at this point. She hadn't seen him in over a year, and for all she knew Greyback had finally done it and turned him into a proper brainless killing machine.

Scabior stood very still and closed his eyes. He appeared to be having an inner debate with himself. Then suddenly his eyes flew open and, magically enhancing his voice, he yelled at the top of his lungs: "Wolves! Rally to me!"

When enough of his pack members had gathered around him – it seemed only part of the initial pack was present; all the wizards, as far as she could make out – he spoke in a voice that carried far. "Any of you want to fight me for the vacant Alpha position?" he asked, pointing at Greyback's corpse. Nobody took him up on his offer. "Then there's a change of plan. We target the Death Eaters. Incapacitate, don't kill. Go!"

He turned toward Evey once more as the others scattered and bowed his head slightly. She bowed hers in acknowledgement.

They had just eliminated one of the most perilous threats from the battlefield and gained a few allies in the process.

Although the battle had favoured Voldemort so far, Harry's army may yet stand a chance.


	68. Here comes the crescendo

As she contemplated the dead bodies assembled in the Great Hall, Evey reflected on what had happened so far.

She had killed Greyback – or rather, Tony had. He was gone; she was freed of him at last. The Wolf had butchered thirteen people before they acted, including Lavender Brown. His victims were easily recognisable, as most of them had been partially eaten. Those were all covered with a blanket, or whatever cloth they had found lying around.

As her eyes fell on Remus's lifeless body, she felt a twinge of guilt. He might have survived, if she had not been so impulsive.

She supposed Greyback's death had brought this on. Perhaps she had caught some of his bloodlust somehow.

When she'd spotted Rodolphus Lestrange fighting against Professor McGonagall earlier, she had acted without thinking. The Killing Curse was cast before she could register what she was doing. She had shot him in the back, just as he had killed her husband nigh on two years ago. The Transfiguration professor had stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, obviously caught off guard. She'd recovered quickly, of course. Already more Death Eaters were swarming the area. There was no time to think, let alone talk.

She thought she would feel some satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment, of righteous revenge, but she did not. She felt… empty, and more than a little disgusted with herself for shooting Lestrange in the back. By doing this, she had showed that she was no better than he was, and it troubled her; indeed it perturbed her greatly.

She considered Greyback's death as necessary, something that had to be done for reasons beyond any personal motive. The Wolf had been on a killing spree; he wouldn't have stopped on his own, and no one else could have stopped him. There simply had been no other option.

Rodolphus, on the other hand… That had been personal. It was reckless, it was stupid. It was not necessary at all. She could have Stunned him easily. She had chosen not too, no matter how unconsciously she may have acted.

And then it got worse.

Bellatrix had gone berserk, but she hadn't seen who killed her husband, so she decided to go after her niece. The Lestrange widow was unstoppable; she hurled jinx after hex at Tonks and seemed to avoid everything the younger woman threw at her. Tonks could barely keep up with her aunt. Despite being a capable Auror, she'd just had a baby, and she was exhausted.

Evey was vaguely aware of this, but she was now facing Rabastan. He had seen her. He knew she had killed his brother, and he seemed determined to destroy her.

Remus arrived right on time, if you could say that. Just as Tonks faltered, beaten, her wand gone, he had thrown himself in front of his wife, shielding her with his body as the green light struck. Tony had led a devastated Tonks to safety, after getting rid of Bellatrix. He hadn't killed her, Evey thought, but he had physically thrown her away. Hopefully she was at least somewhat injured.

Before Tony could join her to defeat Rabastan, who fought even more fiercely now that Bellatrix was out of the picture, Walden had made an appearance. They had been separated earlier, before the whole Greyback business, after part of a corridor had collapsed. Together they had subdued the remaining Lestrange brother and bound him, but they'd left him where he was. Already more Death Eaters were upon them. When she came back for Rabastan later, he was gone.

Her eyes passed over another body. Fred Weasley.

Fred was dead. Her mind had trouble processing the information. It seemed impossible. She wanted to go to George, to be there for him, but it wasn't her place, not anymore. He needed to be with his family.

Besides, she had things to do. There would be time to grieve later, if they survived the night.

"How many of you are there?" she asked Scabior.

"Forty-two, including me," he replied matter-of-factly. "Greyback wanted only the ones who can use magic. Most of them never attended Hogwarts though. They're Squibs, or near enough. Only nineteen know how to duel properly. Including me."

Well, it wasn't much, but it would make up for some of their losses. She had texted the Ancients before the battle started, as well as Blackbeard, but she doubted they could make it before the battle was over. Ted was the only one living in Great Britain at the moment, as far as she knew, and despite being somewhere in Scotland he would have quite a distance to cover before making it to the school.

They were on their own; no supernatural being would come to their rescue, at least not in time.

"When Act Two begins," she told Scabior, "leave the Squibs inside. They can tend to the wounded, until they receive proper care." Needless to say, Madam Pomfrey was swamped at the moment. She could use some help, certainly. "You and your fighters had better stick together. You're more efficient as a whole." As a pack. "You should focus on the lesser Death Eaters, the ones who aren't used to actual fighting. Malfoy and the likes. I bet he hadn't used his wand in years until Voldemort resurfaced. Yaxley and Rookwood, too. You know them?"

Scabior nodded. "I know all of them. Studied all their faces and scents while they were discussing strategy earlier."

"Any idea what's in store for us afterwards?"

"No. He said to destroy as many of you as we could, but to capture the Potter boy alive. There wasn't much of a strategy, in fact," he said with a sneer. "Wizards. Think they're all superior, but they couldn't make a proper battle plan to save their lives."

"Scabior, you _are_ a wizard," Evey pointed out.

"I'm a werewolf," he said simply. "What was _your_ strategy, anyway?"

"Hey, I'm not in charge of the battle," she protested.

"Then who is?"

"I don't fucking know. No one, I think. Professor McGonagall, perhaps? Everyone listens to her, at least."

"Then we'd better gather everyone who can still fight and discuss further operations with her, don't you think? Will Potter be joining us at any point?" he asked with a sarcastic twist of his mouth. "Because we're sort of fighting for him, you know. Might be nice if he were here, if people saw him and knew he had some sort of plan. We need discipline; we need to stay on top of things. As it is, you're unravelling. People are running about like headless chickens."

"Can't really blame them," Evey muttered. "Most of them are _kids_ , Scabior. Hell, we're scared for a good reason. If Voldemort triumphs…"

"You think I don't know what'll happen if the bleedin' snake wins?" he snarled. The harshness of his tone brought Walden at her side. "It'll be our doom as much as yours. I'm perfectly aware of that, thank you very much."

"Calm down," Walden said in a threatening voice. "She's not responsible for everything and everyone, alright?"

Scabior let out a long, annoyed sigh. "Just try and get some semblance of order, will you? And find McGonagall. We need a proper leader. A commander. Preferably not a teenage one." Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and strode toward his pack.

* * *

He could only stare as the macabre procession formed a line in front of them.

Harry Potter was dead, they claimed. Looking at the limp body in Hagrid's arms, Tony had no trouble believing it. The half-giant was a blubbering mess.

All was lost. They had failed. Voldemort would never keep his promise and let everyone live, even though Harry had surrendered himself; they were as good as dead.

Those who could die, anyway.

He moved closer to his brother and Evey. He had to get them out of here alive. What more could they do? Harry was the one who was supposed to defeat Voldemort, and he was dead. Killing Greyback had been quite a feat, but Voldemort was something else entirely. Tony had no idea how many Horcruxes remained, how many had been destroyed. Even if the six they knew of were gone, there remained one that no one had guessed.

They were thoroughly _fucked_.

Then he heard it. So faint, so distant, and with the present racket… He concentrated, straining his ears, obliterating everything else around him. Yes, it was there. A heartbeat.

The boy wasn't dead.

"He's not dead," he repeated aloud, wonder in his voice.

Evey, Walden and Scabior all turned to him at the same time. Evey was closest to him. "You sure?" She didn't seem to doubt him; she just wanted confirmation that she'd heard correctly.

"His heartbeat's a little weak, but he's definitely alive," Tony asserted.

"Thank Merlin," Evey whispered. She smiled then; a fierce, almost feral smile that would have disconcerted even Voldemort, if he'd seen it. The dark wizard's focus was elsewhere, however.

Tony turned his attention back to the main scene just in time to see some random kid – Neville Longbottom, he learned later – cut off the head of the damned basilisk with a sword, of all things; then, as The Boy Who Lived rose from the dead, chaos ensued.

* * *

"Wow. Did you see Molly with Bellatrix earlier?" Evey said with unconcealed awe. "That was fucking epic."

It had been, admittedly. A mother defending her children was a more dangerous enemy than a pack of transformed Wolves, and Molly had already lost a son to Voldemort's minions. Bellatrix had finally reaped what she had sowed.

Well, most of the Lestranges were dead, and so was Voldemort. His corpse still lay where it had fallen after his own Killing Curse had rebounded on him. You'd think he would have learned his lesson, but here he was. Dead for good this time, hopefully.

And Harry was unharmed. He had been a Horcrux himself, he explained. When Voldemort had killed him in the Forbidden Forest, he had actually killed the part of his soul that rested within Harry's body. Or something like that. He wasn't sure on the theory. Dawn was only an hour or so away, he could tell; he felt sleepy already. He would need to find shelter soon.

Evey was safe; that was all that mattered to him. It had been a close shave on more than one occasion. If he hadn't joined her as she was duelling Rabastan, she would have been overwhelmed. And she was covered in blood. He still hadn't gotten to the bottom of that, but he would. Tony couldn't deflect his questions forever.

They were outside now. The scene looked almost… apocalyptic. There were still a few bodies lying on the ground, most of them Death Eaters, as far as he could make out. Parts of the castle had been torn apart by the giants; there were fires in the Forbidden Forest. Dishevelled people were wandering about aimlessly, obviously in shock.

Aurors had been called in, those who had refused to serve Voldemort and been fired when the Dark Lord took control of the Ministry. They had remained in touch with Kingsley, apparently. They were now hunting the Death Eaters who had fled when Voldemort fell. The werewolves were assisting them, as well as the centaurs.

Most of the other Death Eaters had been captured; some were dead. Most of the dead belonged in Harry's camp, unfortunately. Kids had died. That was the worst part, in his opinion. This battle should never have been fought here.

He put his good hand around his wife's waist, and she smiled up at him. It was a sad smile. She regretted killing Rodolphus, he could tell. He would have told her not to, if he'd been there. Killing always made things worse.

Well, except perhaps in Greyback's case.

He started at the thought. Greyback was dead. Evey was covered in blood, and Tony was avoiding him. Oh, hell. "Did Tony bite you?" he asked her suspiciously.

Her smile faded and she averted her eyes. "Yes. I asked him to," she muttered.

"Merlin, are you insane? He could have killed you!"

"He didn't," she said with an offhanded shrug.

Releasing her waist, he gripped her shoulders so she would meet his eyes. "But he _could have_ ," he insisted. "You had no way of knowing–"

"Pardon me. May I borrow Evangeline for a moment?"

Walden turned to glare at the man who had called his wife Evangeline. Nobody called her that. Few people even knew that was her name. It didn't help the intruder's case that he was so good-looking. _Too_ good-looking. Who did he think he was to interrupt them like that? Wasn't it obvious that they were in the middle of an argument?

"Mal!" Evey cried out with unexpected cheerfulness. "You came. How nice of you. A tad late, but it's the thought that counts, I suppose," she added with a grin.

Now he was lost. She _knew_ him? More to the point, she knew this good-looking fellow that Walden had never heard of?

"Mal, this is my husband, Walden. Wal, this is Malkoran, the Wolves' supreme Alpha," she said with a smirk.

 _That_ was Malkoran? Damn. He'd imagined him bigger than that, more imposing. More like Greyback, in fact. Certainly not handsome enough to make him almost physically sick.

The Wolf put his hand forward and Walden shook it reluctantly. How in the blazes did he know his wife? "Nice to meet you in person," Malkoran said. "Evangeline has told me much about you."

Could he stop calling her that? It was making him feel uncomfortable, for some reason. "Oh, really? And when was that?" Walden enquired casually.

Evey laughed. "When you abandoned me to go gallivanting with the Elves," she said sweetly. Great. She knew he was jealous.

Malkoran seemed to sense Walden's annoyance. "I do not mean to be a bother. I was just wondering if you knew who that boy is," he went on, pointing to a familiar blonde head. Well, Walden was familiar with his father, at least.

"Draco?" Evey asked with a puzzled frown. "Yeah, he's Harry's nemesis, a wannabe Death Eater and an entitled twat. Why?"

"It seems he's our new Wolf," Malkoran explained quietly.

* * *

 **Author's note** : Well. If you made it this far, you either somewhat liked the story or were desperately bored. Or both. I guess they're not mutually exclusive.

Reviews are amazing for the author, a real blessing, but maybe not so great for the reader, because, after all, you have to write them yourselves. Not everyone likes to write. I understand that. So what I propose is this: instead of writing a 10,000 words essay on the dichotomy of good and evil as pertaining to my humble story, how about you just tell me what your favourite chapter/moment/character was? And/or your least favourite? It will only take you a minute, and it will absolutely make my day, as well as help me for any future story I might write (who am I kidding, I'm always writing). Just one minute, people. You've spent hours reading the whole thing, surely you can waste one more minute to type one tiny sentence…

Yes, I'm definitely guilt-inducing (is that even a word?) you to write something, anything. And I hope it's working. You have no idea how important it is.

Thanks for reading to the end, in any case. It means a lot to me.


	69. 19 years later

**Author's note** : I realise epilogues are not necessary but I wrote this long before I even finished the story, so I might as well publish it…

I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you for reading!

* * *

He hated paperwork, but when you started your own company, you had to expect tons. Fabricating and selling magical prostheses was working out even better than he had anticipated; already he'd had to expand and look for business partners to keep up with the work load.

But still, the paperwork was killing him. He would have to hire a second secretary soon, to assist Alicia during the day.

His computer rang out suddenly. A video call. It had to be Evey; nobody else would call him in the middle of the night. He hadn't heard from Walden since they'd celebrated their birthdays together in May, but Evey called him every week without fault, ever since Tony had moved to New York, a few years ago.

"Hey," she said enthusiastically when he picked up the call, "am I interrupting?"

"Yeah," he replied grimly, "but please, do interrupt. Anything will do."

Evey grinned. She looked as she always did, youthful and full of energy. She didn't age, no more than Walden or Tony did. "Those nasty papers bothering you again?"

"It's like they haven't heard of computers." They likely hadn't. As usual, the wizarding world was having a hard time keeping up with the flow of Muggle technology. He shook his head. "Anyway. What's up?"

"I just bought chocolate mint ice cream," she said brightly. She even showed him the pack on the camera.

"Why are you being so cruel? I thought we had an agreement," he protested. "No eating in front of the camera."

She ignored him. "I was on the phone with Mal earlier, and we got to talking about that prophecy of his. Do you remember?"

Tony nodded. The prophecy made by the one he called the Seer, thousands of years ago. Malkoran was persuaded that Evey was its main object. And why not? She really had brought the Wolves and Ancients together, and eventually the Bloodmother and Malkoran had rekindled their former romance, although Evey insisted that she'd had nothing to do with that. Where was she going with this, though?

"He told me that he'd sought the Seer out one last time, centuries after she foretold this. He was getting impatient, wanted to know when Ellessin and he would be reunited." Tony had never been able to bring himself to call the Mother by her true name. As a matter of fact, Evey was the only one who used it, as far as he knew – and Malkoran, obviously. "She wasn't there. Well, the world had changed much since his last visit. He assumed she was dead, at long last. But she wasn't, not really." Evey picked up a spoon and started eating the ice cream. Why was she doing this? He seriously hoped she had an ulterior motive, other than to make him suffer needlessly. He had never gotten over the fact that he couldn't eat or drink anything but blood. "Her body had reached its expiration date, and it is said that the Gods of the Netherworld came for her Themselves, to reap her soul – if it could still be called that – and bring it where it belonged. But even then, she wasn't ready to die. She bargained once more. She had no more of her kin to trade, but that did not stop her. Let Them give her a new body, she said, and she would continue as she'd always done, leading ignorant mortals to their deaths as a sacrifice to the Gods. She would feed Them with the souls of unwary, power-hungry men and women in exchange for her prolonged life." Evey shook her head slowly. "Well, They took her up on her offer. More or less." She looked up at him. "The Questing Beast? That's her."

"For real?" Now that… that was unexpected. It made sense though; it explained the foretelling part and why the damned creature always tried to find a way to get people killed – they weren't the first who had been duped and forced to beg for their lives. Evey nodded, her face composed, but he could see that there was more to it. "You didn't call just to tell me that, did you?"

She grinned as if she couldn't help it. She was clearly messing with him, although her purpose was still unclear to him. "Talking about the Questing Beast with Malkoran reminded me that it's been twenty years since we paid it a visit ourselves."

Tony frowned, glancing at the date on his laptop. 3rd September, 2016.

Could it be? Could twenty years have passed since they'd attempted to win the war by seeking the Questing Beast – and failed miserably? He found it difficult to gauge how fast time passed, sometimes. Being immortal made it easy to overlook details such as the current month – or year.

Wait a moment. He pulled himself out of his reverie. Twenty years? This wasn't an idle remark.

"I have an alarm on my phone, and it's on our calendar. I thought you would have marked it down somewhere, as well," Evey went on.

He'd utterly forgotten about it all, truth be told. But now that she mentioned it…

"On the way to the lair you joked that you would wish for it to allow you to eat normally again, and I chided you because we had to think of the war," Evey said. "When the Beast's body vanished, I suggested we travel back to Avalon and start up the path once more, right away, after dropping Nana home." Sadly, the dog had passed the year before. Tony had gotten them a new puppy for their birthdays. "But you told me that we couldn't, because the Beast wouldn't come back to life for years." She looked him in the eyes. "Twenty years, you said."

"You want to hunt it down again?" he asked her incredulously.

"Well, it's not an obligation, but... Harry doesn't need help anymore, Greyback and Voldemort are dead... I suppose it would be more selfless to wish for world peace, but us humans are selfish little creatures, aren't we?" she added with a wicked smile.

"But how do we track it? You can't turn into a werewolf anymore, not since Greyback died."

"Hunting magical creatures is our _job_ , Tony. I'm sure we'll figure something out."

"Is Walden on board with this?"

"Of course he is, silly. It was he who wrote it down on the calendar in the first place. He just had to step out for a moment; we received an urgent call a few minutes ago. There's a stray Dementor on the loose. Wal should be back in an hour. So... if you're not too busy pushing papers..."

"I'm never too busy for ice cream."

* * *

 **And the world will be as one**

On 31st October in the year 2184, as the world faced more and more threats, notably an increased number of natural catastrophes due to climate change, a drastic diminution of resources, more resistant diseases, the waste situation and the threat of a nuclear war, the wizarding world had decided, following a never-before-seen international meeting, to come out of the closet and address the situation.

Evey had wept the day it happened; not for joy, but because she was convinced that it would mean the end of the world. She thought Muggles weren't ready to handle such a revelation. They had surprised her, however. Of course, not everyone had reacted positively. The then-Pope had condemned magic and all those who associated with it and sentenced them all to an eternity in hell, but this had caused more people to reject the Pope than to embrace the hate – surprisingly enough. Other religions were quite agreeable. Most simply called magic the proof that their respective gods existed. The situation had only really degenerated in the USA. Eventually, the West and East coasts had decided to split from the centre following several incidents. Once that was done, things had mostly quieted down. It wasn't just the Centrist States of America that rejected the wizarding population and refused to acknowledge the existence of magic, but other nations were not as important in the larger picture, Evey assumed.

Governments had adapted to the presence of wizarding administration, often working together and, in some instances, becoming one altogether.

Her biggest surprise, however, was that the world had almost unanimously agreed not to work on improving weapons or creating new ones – at least while they focused on mending the planet. They hadn't stopped at that, either. As the world got better every day and population increased, they began to look to space for new opportunities.

How odd to think back on all she had seen. She had watched history unfurl in front of her eyes. If you'd told her after Voldemort's defeat that she would live to see the day where the Statute of Secrecy would be lifted, and that it would happen so smoothly... To be honest, she had expected a witch hunt on an international scale. Times had changed, she supposed.

About a hundred years later, in the year 2291, the world was a much different place. In fact, it wasn't just one world anymore. With the help of magic, Muggle technology had been taken to a whole new level. They had colonised several planets already. Most diseases had been eradicated and people – Muggles and wizards alike – lived even longer than in the days when she was born. Starvation and global warming were distant memories, but war persisted in some parts of the world. She didn't think even Tony would live to see a world where people didn't kill people, but they had made some progress, at least.

Werewolves were much better off now than they had been centuries ago. The Werewolf Revolution, one of the most peaceful revolutions in history to date, had started with Scabior, soon after the end of the war – or, more accurately, it had started with Nymphodora Tonks. After her husband's tragic death, she had been determined to see that werewolves would never be persecuted again. It had been her last homage to his memory. She had married Scabior, eventually. The Wolves had offered to help as well, and Draco Malfoy had ended up leading the revolution in its last stages, long after Tonks and Scabior had died. He was considered a hero among the werewolves, and was a respected figure worldwide.

After the Second Wizarding War, Walden and she had worked together at his former job for a few decades, then they'd decided to see the world. They visited many places – always at night, but she'd gotten quite used to that – but in the end they'd settled in the most practical locations: Alaska and southern Argentina. In their little cabin in Utqiaġvik, Walden could spend over two months in her company without having to sleep at all, since the sun never rose from mid-November to mid-January. She'd found she needed less and less sleep as the years passed; now she could easily stay up for the duration of their sojourn in the Arctic area. In the summer, they moved to la Tierra del Fuego, in Ushuaia. That was where the nights lasted longest – unless one wished to move to Antarctica. They were both insensitive to the cold, of course, but the southernmost continent did not appeal to either of them.

They'd never had kids. They had decided it would be too much of a gamble, not knowing if their progeny would inherit any traits from their parents, and particularly not knowing whether they would be outlived by Walden and Evey. She didn't think she could have handled that, and Walden agreed wholeheartedly. For the same reason, adoption was out of the question.

They had each other, and they were still in contact with Antonin, although they rarely saw him in person. He was rather busy. This world was everything he'd ever dreamed of, a world full of possibilities. He was thriving in this new age. They all were.

All was well.

* * *

 **To live to see the great day that dawns, and the light that fills the world**

It had been clear early on that Evey would live longer than most people, although they couldn't be certain that she was actually immortal. She never aged, and still looked as she did when he'd first met her. Walden hadn't changed either, of course, not since he'd become a vampire. They hadn't known how long he would live, having been bitten by an Ancient. For all they knew, he was immortal as well.

Vampires – the regular sort – usually lived to be around 200 years old. Their death was always unexpected and rather gory. They suddenly started rotting. No one understood exactly how or why it happened so abruptly, without precursory signs – vampires were already dead; how could they die? That was a question that had gnawed at wizards and witches of all origins for millennia and that was now bothering Muggle scientists as well. Once the process began, the flesh decomposed first, then the internal organs. It generally took up to three days for a vampire to be truly dead. They didn't look like much by that time. Most of them opted for a quicker end: a final walk in the sun.

That was what Walden chose to do, when he realised what was happening. As he peeled off the necrotised skin off his right pinkie finger, his first and only concern had been the manner in which he would broach the topic with his wife. She would take it hard, he knew. They had been together for 300 years, and she took the fact that he had lived so long to mean he would never die.

He'd wanted to die in Scotland. He asked Tony if Evey could maybe stay with him for a few weeks, while she recovered – while they both did, Walden suspected. Tony had had to call him back after he'd broken the news to him. They packed up their things that same day and Apparated in Walden's old manor house an hour before dawn, long enough for him to say goodbye to the only two people who really mattered to him. He was feeling oddly calm. He wanted to do this properly.

When he started feeling drowsy, he walked outside and lay down on the grass. He wouldn't be able to remain standing for very long as the sun began to ascend. Evey and Tony stood by the door, as he'd requested. Vampires were known to burst into flames when sunlight touched their skin, and he wouldn't risk them getting hurt. His eyes were closed already, and he could feel himself drifting off to sleep for the last time. He would be unconscious before the sun rose above the horizon. He would be...

* * *

 **We, who ride the currents of time**

Evey had told him she didn't think she could bear to live without Walden. Tony had offered to take her in for as long as she needed – he had settled in Walden's old place when Walden and Evey had deserted it – but that had been months ago. She had been almost Inferius-like during the first weeks, barely eating, never speaking, not even to him. He gave her all the space she needed. He had been worried in those early days. Walden and she had been together for centuries, and she barely knew anyone else – neither she nor his brother had ever been particularly sociable and they had been living in the most isolated places. Tony was all she had left in the world.

He had argued in favour of them having children. He knew very well that it wasn't his business, and he understood their point of view on the matter, but he had also known that if one of them was to die, the other would be left more alone than they realised. He had been right, of course.

He had understood early on that pushing people away and refusing to get close to anyone on grounds of being immortal would be a mistake. Evey had been right about that. That being said, he'd never gotten as far as to get married, although he'd had several steady relationships – steady compared to the sort he used to have before becoming a vampire, in any case. He'd never revealed his true nature to any of them, however, not even after the wizarding world made its coming out in 2184. He wasn't sure why, if he was being honest. It simply felt wrong.

He would have had kids of his own if he could have, if only to pass the time, but adoption was not something he felt comfortable with. Admittedly, that was also why he'd wanted V and Walden to have kids. Tony would have been a cracking uncle.

Since he was denied the presence of children, he worked. He'd always been a hard-worker. He loved doing what he did, which was tinkering with all sorts of things and finding solutions to tricky problems. Since the wizarding community had been allowed to use magic publicly, he'd begun working on projects involving Muggle technology – with the invaluable help of Muggle engineers. They had come a long way without the intervention of magic, he had to give them that, but the things they made now... It was everything he'd ever dreamed of and more. Arthur Weasley would have been over the moon – perhaps literally, as they had established a small colony on Earth's satellite decades ago.

Evey had told him he would get used to losing people, and she had been right, for the most part. It did get easier with time. Walden's passing was the first over which he'd cried in a long, long time. Then again, he'd never imagined his brother would die so unexpectedly – or that it would happen at all. Walden had defied nature by outliving most vampires by a century. Now Tony could only hope that the same thing would not happen to Evey. They had always been the only two permanent people in his life, and now Walden was gone. All things considered, perhaps Evey was all he had left in the world as well.

Unlike her, he knew a great many people, but it wasn't the same. The Ancients were more like distant relatives that gathered once in a blue moon, and so were the few Wolves with whom he'd kept in touch.

Evey was feeling better nowadays, he could tell. She ate normally and they talked every day. He even managed to make her laugh, sometimes. He knew it was a good thing, but he was afraid that she might decide to leave soon, now that she was recuperating. She'd already mentioned it; she'd said she didn't want to be a burden to him forever.

As he walked into the living room, where Evey was reading on the sofa, he had a terrible sense of foreboding that she would announce her departure the very next day, so he spoke before she could say anything.

"We should go on a trip, you and I. Somewhere warm and sunny," he added with a pointed look at the clouded sky. It was quite warm outside, but the weather forecast promised storms in the coming days. Not that the temperature mattered to him, but he always felt better when the sun was out. The gloomy weather was affecting his mood, and it couldn't be good for Evey's.

"Tony," Evey said with a sigh, "you can go if you want. I told you, I'm fine. You don't need to hover about all the time. In fact," she went on, "I'm the one who should go." Shit. That was exactly what he was trying to prevent. "I've taken too much of your time already. Taki will wonder what happened to you." Taki was his business partner, had been for the last thirty years. He managed the company's branch in Japan. Evey placed a bookmark in her book and rose from the sofa, grinning at him. "I can't believe you managed to keep off women for so long. Although I did tell you I didn't mind if you brought people here. I mean, it's a large place, the chances of me running into them are quite small."

He tried to return her smile but failed. Why was it so easy for him to chat up random women but so incredibly difficult to say what he wanted to say to her?

"V, I… I don't want you to leave," he finally muttered. He could not even meet her eyes.

"Thank Merlin!" she exclaimed with a small laugh. "I thought you'd never say it." She moved forward, paused in front of him and waited for him to meet her eyes. When he finally did, she arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to wait another year before you kiss me?"


End file.
